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COPYRIGHT, 1889 , 
By BRENTANO’S. 


ALL RIGHTS RKSERVED. 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


It was the Sabbath after Conference. The Rev. 
Charles Foster, now entered upon his second year as 
pastor of the Methodist Church in Morton ville, has shut 
himself into his study to take a last look at his sermon, 
and bring his mind into a fitter condition for the morn- 
ing service. 

Instead of seating himself at once, he laid his manu- 
script on his desk, and going to a window that faced 
northward, stood for some time looking intently at an 
object standing among the elms at the northeast corner 
of the village. 

It was the new French chapel — built during the year, 
and recently dedicated. 

An unprejudiced observer, who had an appreciative 
sense of the picturesque, would have been charmed with 
the view from the study window. 

But — judging from his looks — the Rev. Charles Fos- 
ter was not an unprejudiced observer, or if he was, he 
had no eye for such beauty as Nature and Art had com- 
bined to produce in the scene before him. 


2 


I>RlEST AND PURITAN 


Silent, motionless, with his arms folded upon his 
breast, he was standing before the window, when the 
rays of the ascending sun finding an opening through 
the tree-tops, stole in and fell upon something that arose 
from the chapel roof, and in an instant — as if it were 
suddenly raised into prominence, there stood out before 
him a gilded cross. « 

He started, and his countenance softened percep- 
tibly. 

Sacred emblem, even there! ’’ he said, in a low tone. 
^^Ohow gladly,” he continued, would I find a spirit- 
ual beauty corresponding to that of its buildings and 
forms of worship in the institution that so boldly and 
confidently holds the cross up to the world ! But I do 
not find it. 

Is it because I am blind and cannot, or prejudiced and 
will not see it ? Ah, great and powerful organization, 
now represented here, are you developing the spiritual 
natures of the millions who so regularly go up to your 
temples to participate in your elaborate ceremonies? 
“Until I am convinced you are, I can have in 
my heart no fraternal feeling for your representative 
here.” 

Having said this, he turned his eyes away from the 
chapel, and looking across the Shallow — a little stream 
that bounded the village on the west — fixed them upon a 
house standing in the shade of some large maples, and 
on a sightly bluff well back from the river — a place that 
rumor said. Father Le Grand had bought in the name 
of his church and was to occupy. 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


3 


A look of sadness settled upon the grave face of the 
minister. He heaved a deep sigh, left the window 
abruptly and went to his desk. 

He was born in that house on the bluff, and that had 
been his home until he reached maturity, when he went 
away to complete his studies for the ministry. 

After an absence of many years, he had come back 
the year before to preach. And there, in the place of 
his nativity, which had been a strong-hold of Methodism 
for nearly forty years, and during his ministry, that 
enemy of free thought, and mockery of Christianity, as 
he considered it — Romanism — had secured a foot- 
hold ! 

He had come back to see a foreign priest — a being 
whom his ancestors would have distrusted and feared — 
preparing to shelter himself under their family roof tree. 
Surely, there was ample cause for the minister's sigh 
and look of pain. 

When he reached his desk, as he looked down, his 
eyes fell upon these words : 

“ The Lord reigneth.” 

These were the text of the sermon he was to preach 
that morning, in which he had labored to show that in 
all things, from the humble affairs of the individual to 
the great events that stir the nation and the world. Prov- 
idence controls the minds and forces that are at work. 
Sometimes men can- see this Divine influence — not 
always. But it is always shaping and directing events, 
though not always recognized. 


4 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


He had written this sermon as much for his own as 
for his people^s good. His faith was sorely tried by 
what he saw taking place, and he would strengthen 
it. And still, within a few moments he had allowed 
himself to doubt what he had aimed to prove. 

Kneeling beside his desk, he olfered up a silent and 
earnest prayer. Then he arose, and read his manuscript 
preparatory to going to church. 

The prayer, or the reperusal of the sermon, or both 
combined, gave him new strength. When he had fin- 
ished reading, he quickly took his pen and added as fol- 
lows : 

^^Yes, my brethren, God surely reigns. And seated 
on His throne He will not only see that His plan of sal- 
vation shall ultimately succeed, but He will also see that 
no event shall delay for a day or an hour its final tri- 
umph. 

Finite minds may sometimes fear that what seems a 
victory for Satan in a certain quarter, blocks the pro- 
gress of God^s kingdom. 

‘^Ndt so, my brethren. He permits sometimes what 
seems reverses because — in some way which we are un- 
able to understand — they are carrying out His purpose. 
Take courage. The dominion of Satan is surely lessen- 
ing, while the kingdom of our God is as surely increas- 
ing.^^ 

With renewed faith he now went forth to deliver his 
message. 

He had accomplished that for which he entered his 
study. Indeed, perhaps never before during his min- 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


5 


istry had he become so thoroughly filled with his theme 
as he was that morning. In spite of the fact that the 
enemy had approached so near, and had planted his 
fortress on high ground that overlooked the humble 
structure where God was wont to meet his people, the 
minister was undismayed. There was hope in his hearts 
and a look of determination on his face as he repeated 
the words of the text : 

“ The Lord reigneth.” 

A leader in the church militant is sometimes likened 
to a general in the army : and in some things there seems 
to be a resemblance. But as one is by profession a man 
of war and the other a man of peace, we should expect to 
find more contrasts than resemblances. 

And yet if the reader had seen the Kev. Charles Eoster 
when, after having left his house, he paused for a mo- 
ment before descending the steps which led to the street, 
and looked in the direction of the little French Chapel, 
he might have been in doubt as to which weapon — the 
Sword of steel or of the Spirit — this clerical gentleman 
preferred to wield in a certain quarter. 

Could it be possible that in the breast of this worthy 
man there was just then something not unlike the emo- 
tion of a general on the field of battle, who, looking at 
the enemy on the eve of an engagement, expresses in a 
glance, both wish and determination to annihilate him ? 

Let no injustice be done the minister by a misrepre- 
sentation of his expression. Not every servant of God 
— as is recorded of some — reveals the holy purpose of his 


6 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


heart in a countenance glowing with an unnatural, a 
spiritual light : and still, that high purpose may he there. 

The Rev. Charles Foster was not vindictive. He was 
often made sorrowful by what seemed to him the per- 
verse course of men or circumstances : but malice he 
never felt towards any human being. 

The frown which darkened his brow as he turned on 
the landing of the steps to look northward, presaged no 
harm — at least not directly to the pretty little building 
that, so high above him, and half hidden, seemed almost 
like a bird’s house, nestling among the tree tops. 

Neither did that look foreshadow a controversial strife 
between minister and priest, nor threaten in any way 
the peace. 

This devout and worthy disciple of Wesley had not 
gone back to the Crusades for his inspiration. And he 
would be the last man in the world to incite denomina- 
tional contention. 

What then did it mean — that stern, determined expres- 
sion which had settled upon his countenance? It meant 
that the easy-going, half-hearted mode of Christian war- 
fare — of which he stood self-accused — had come to an end. 
That w^ar indeed was about to begin : active and relent- 
less war — not against sect, or leader : not against indi- 
viduals but against sin and Satan. 

It was to be an offensive war: and the mode of assault 
chosen by this aroused Christian warrior was the one 
most dreaded by the ruler of darkness, namely, a Re- 
vival.^’ 

A revival! What good Methodist ever dopbted its effi- 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


7 


cacy against all threatening evils? The Methodist 
pastor had determined to set in motion at once the 
machinery of that instrumentality of salvation, not 
doubting that by so doing the spread of error would be 
checked, and some souls brought within the fold and 
saved. 

Such was the effect produced on the mind and heart 
of the Eev. Charles Foster by the advent of Eomanism 
in Mortonville. 

There was but one other person in Mortonville, not a 
Catholic, who felt anything like the interest of the Metho- 
dist clergyman in the addition of the new church : and 
that individual had indirectly been the cause of the inno- 
vation. Humphrey Morton, by whom the village was 
founded and from whom it took its name, had for many 
years been the prosperous owner of one mill. 

He grew ambitious, and burned for the glory of pos- 
sessing two. The second one was built, and behold 
when it was completed the requisite number of operators 
could not be found at home, and an agent was despatch- 
ed to Canada to bring some from there. 

Within a very few years from the time the new mill 
was started, there was a priest and then a chapel at 
Mortonville. Mr. Morton contributed the land to build 
on, and a generous sum of money to aid in the con- 
struction of the chapel. For he saw plainly that with a 
church and priest these people would be contented and 
orderly. 

Humphrey Morton was something of an autocrat in 
Idortonville. Why shoqldnT he be ? Three-fourths of 


8 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


the buildings in the village were monuments of his in- 
dustry and thrift : and at least that proportion of the 
population got their living from his mills. His two 
large brick factories with their satellites, the tenements, 
covered the ground for nearly a quarter of a mile on 
the west side of Main street, and reached back nearly to 
the Shallow. 

The manufacturer was not a man to pay much atten- 
tion to anniversary days or he would not have allowed 
the day before to have passed without some celebration, 
for it was the last day of his fortieth year in the village 
he had founded. He was not, however, unmindful of 
the fact: and as he sat in his great arm-chair this April 
Sabbath morning in his house on High street and looked 
down upon the silent workshops and all of his other 
possessions stretching northward and southward, there 
was certainly depicted upon his face great satisfaction 
and contentment. He was old in years, having passed 
his seventieth birthday. 

But what a vigorous old man he seemed ! Of medium 
height, his frame was well filled ' out, and yet not over- 
weighed with superfluous flesh, like some old men who 
retain their appetites, but cease to exercise. He was 
still intensely active. 

A large well -shaped head surmounted his broad and 
massive shoulders. The forehead was high, broad, and 
altogether nobly fashioned. 

His eyes, not quite as black or sharp as in earlier days, 
still retained much of their original lustre. The hair — 
iron gray — though thin, covered the entire crown : and 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


9 


as it received attention only in the morning, it lay in 
graceful tangles, like threads of silk crossed and recrossed 
about the head. He was a man of large brain, indomit- 
able will, and limitless courage. 

He started poor. When a boy, he learned how to 
make brick : at eighteen he was a carpenter and joiner 
working by the day : at twenty a school teacher — and he 
taught several terms in the town where he was destined 
afterwards to establish a large industry, and where, in 
one of his pupils he found a wife. 

A man of great versatility, he acquired the knowledge 
of dam-building and built the dams which gave the 
power for his mills, as he had made the brick with which 
his mills and tenements were built. The house he lived 
in, and to which he had taken his bride, was built mostly 
by his own hand. 

He had been successful. He was bound to succeed in 
spite of floods and fires whose ravages had time and again 
failed to dishearten him. Somehow or other it had 
fallen to his lot to be what he was — a manufacturer : and 
industry, good judgment and great financial ability had 
made him well to do. 

He attended to his business. He put into it the vigor 
of his mind and body. He knew no other way to work 
if anything was to be accomplished. He never stopped 
to ask himseif if he had chosen the work he was best 
fitted for, but taking it for granted that he had, he went 
ahead. Such a man always succeeds. 

From his dams, down the canal to the mills and in- 
cluding them and the houses, he had planned every 


10 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


structure : and was himself the master-builder. The 
manner in which he handled large bodies of workmen : 
the strict obedience and order he required, to which the 
laborers cheerfully conformed: the despatch with which 
he accomplished large undertakings, were all Na- 
poleonic. What a general he would have been, if war 
had been his calling! what a statesman ! lawyer, if he 
had chosen either politics or the legal profession. So 
thought many. 

But instead of these, we find him simply a manufac- 
turer, sitting now in his great arm-chair twirling his 
thumbs around each other, a well-known habit of his, 
and looking down upon his large possessions with a very 
satisfied air. 

A beautiful old lady sits not far away, reading. He 
calls her Mother. Many old men who do so could 
give no reason for it. But he had one. It was not that 
he did not like her given name, for he loved it, and had 
never ceased to think it the sweetest name he had ever 
heard since she pronounced it for him for the first time 
on that May morning so long ago — that day of his first 
school. But the reason was this : his daughter who was 
named after her mother — insisted on the French pro- 
nunciation. He objected, claiming that it made it a 
different name, and not half so good. It might do for 
the daughter but not for mother. He would not accept 
of the change, arguing that the old love would not give 
up the old name. The daughter laughingly persisted, 
and at length her father consented to a compromise as 
follows ; 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


11 


You wish me to pronounce her name as you do. 
Very well — you call her ^mother ^ — so will I.” 

Mamma shall avenge me, then/^ replied the daughter, 
^'by calling you "Father." "" 

The old lady smilingly agreed to do so, and thus the 
matter was settled. Since then, many years had passed 
away, and the daughter — now herself a wife and mother 
— lived in a western city. Harry, the son, a man of 
forty, lived in Hew York, where he represented Humph- 
rey Morton & Son. 

The manufacturer, after sitting for some time musing 
upon the past, the felicitating himself upon the evidences 
before and around him of his success in life, arose in 
his quick, nervous manner, and went into an adjoining 
room. In a short time, he returned with a smile on 
his face, and a merry twinkle in his eye. 

Mr. Pope has moved in. mother,"" he remarked. 

Mrs. Morton raised her eyes from her book and looked 
at her husband. 

"" Mr. Pope ? Who is he ?’" she asked. 

"" Why, haven "t you heard of Pope— Mr. Pius Pope, 
co-worker with Mr. Wesley who lives next door ?"" 

"" 0, I understand uow. But what levity ! I am afraid 
you are neither a good Protestant nor Catholic."" 

"" On the contrary, I am both. My church is broad in 
its creed— very broad : and debars no one — be he mem- 
ber of a sect or not."" 

"" Indeed ! I dare say then you would admit the 
heathen."" 

0, certainly !"" exclajme^her hqsband, ""Wewan^ 


12 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


them : and what is more — we expect them. We appro- 
priate the promise that ^ the heathen shall be given us as 
a possession ’ or words to that effect. ’ ’ 

What does this nonsense mean, father? Have you 
joined the Free Masons?” 

Well, yes — one kind of Free Masons. We are also 
free hod-carriers, free manufacturers, merchants, far- 
mers ; and in short, free to do any good work. Do 
something ! That’s our motto in the Church of Uni- 
versal Endeavor.” 

Ah ! and a very good one. But I guess I won’t 
join until you get your church built, and your minister 
settled,” said Mrs. Morton, smiling, and raising her hook 
as if to resume reading. 

But you are already a member in ^ good and regular 
standing :’ we have none more faithful. As to churches, 
this house is one; those,” pointing to the mills, ‘^are 
others. And ministers? Now, don’t faint when I say 
that I suppose I am as near a preacher as any one in our 
denomination. But doing rather than preaching is the 
rule with us. Or, perhaps I should say that doing is our 
preaching.” 

When do you expect to abolish the other churches ?” 
asked his wife. 

“Never. We have only added to what already ex- 
isted. We believe that for the present all denomina- 
tions are necessary. Men should — must worship God in 
some way : and many think that can only be done in a 
church. These must have a church. Let them : and I 
will always help them to get the one they want. And 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


13 


yet there are men and women here, who by being truth- 
ful, industrious and honest, are rendering better service 
to the Almighty through the six days of the week than in 
uttering the foolish jargon often heard at the Sunday 
evening prayer meeting. But come, mother, we must go 
down and hear the gospel expounded after the manner 
of John Wesley.’’ 

Humphrey Morton was not what in Christian phrase- 
ology is termed religious.” 

When once asked to give his views of the subject of 
life : the future : and rewards and punishments — he 
gave as his Articles of Belief, the following : 

The object of life is to do something ; to develop 
the world and ourselves, and to develop both in the 
right direction. Work, man ! Be honest. God will 
deal with you and me as we deserve. That is — He will 
let us get just what we aim for.” 

On one occasion a zealous minister approached him 
with — 

^^Sir ! the Lord sends me here to save men’s souls.” 

And He sends me here to save their bodies. You 
attend to your business and I will attend to mine,” was 
the quick reply. 

The sermon of the Eev. Charles Foster that morning 
proved to be one of the most impressive he had ever 
delivered in Mortonville. On the way home Mr. Morton 
remarked to his wife that he thought the minister had 
outdone himself, can say "Amen’ to everything he 
said.” 


14 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


That is proof of the power of the sermon — that it 
moved you.” 

Her husband smiled as he replied, ^^No doubt. But 
I am afraid if we compared views, it would turn out that 
my amen would be an assent to what he said, and not 
altogether to what he meant.” 

There, don’t qualify. Be good for once, and say he 
did nobly, and was truly eloquent.” 

Yea and Amen !” answered her husband with such 
a manner and so much force that he caused his better- 
half to laugh out-right. 

‘^Do you know,” began Mrs. Morton a little later, 

my thoughts made me rather sad as I sat listening to 
him this morning.” 

Your thoughts, possibly, but certainly not his. For 
there was no pathos in the sermon nor its delivery.” 

“As you like, Mr. Critic, but I could not keep my 
mind from dwelling on the changes which time has 
wrought during the life of the minister — ending by dom- 
iciling a Catholic priest in the house that Elder Foster 
built and lived in so long. There’s pathos — the irony 
with which Fate answers the prayer of the old Baptist 
Elder, that ^ As now, so for generations to come, may 
this house shelter a faithful minister of the Lord. ’ The 
Elder little thought that his son was to be a ^roving 
Methodist.’ ” 

‘ ^ Fate ! Providence sounds better. ‘ The Lord reign- 
eth !’ ” said her husband. 

“ I hope you are as serious as you pretend. But I am 
not sure you are not mocking,” remarked his wife. 


t>RlEST AND PURITAN 


15 


However, I will consider you in earnest, and perhaps 
that will make you so. Mr. Foster undoubtedly believes 
the text : but how would he reconcile it with the changes 
across the Shallow? It is too personal a matter to 
allow of my asking him. But I will ask you how you 
would apply the text in the case ? Please give your view 
from the stand-point of the — heathen. 

With pleasure. Behold now, a remarkable spec- 
tacle ! — a heathen giving lessons in faith to a Christian 
skeptic. 

Mrs. Morton gave her husband’s arm a mild jerk’ and 
said : 

I object to the prelude ! And what an air of self- 
confidence you assume ! Do you think it befitting a 
humble member of the Universal Endeavor to Do Some- 
thing Society ? ” 

Humble member? Who calls me a humble member ? ” 
he cried. In our church we make but little preten- 
sions to humility. Where it is done, it is often a false 
pretense. We think we have good reasons for a moderate 
amount of pride.” 

Well, let it be moderate, then. Go on now, if you 
please.” 

Allow me to disengage my arm, madam, that 
I may be free to gesticulate as I proceed. Now, then, 
from the heathen’s stand-point, I should say there was 
no loss in the substitution of Father Le Grand for Elder 
Foster. Why ? Listen, and I will tell you. A great 
many years ago, one Sunday, after the elder had deliv- 
ered a most rabid sermon on the evils of dancing, he 


16 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


closed his service by giving notice that a hogshead of 
New England rum had arrived at Squire Damon’s store, 
and would be on tap Monday morning. I declined the 
elder’s invitation to drink, and disregarded his injunc- 
tion against dancing. I took one of my pupils — you 
know who — to a ball the next Thursday night. We 
danced till midnight, and on our way home decided — 
didn’t we, mother — that elder Foster should not per- 
form the ceremony. Father Le Grand is at the head of 
a temperance organization, hut allows dancing. To the 
heathen, there has nothing occurred across the Shallow, 
as yet, to shake his faith in the text of to-day. And 
now, will you take my arm? — we have come to the hill.” 

Yes, I will take your arm,” she replied, suiting the 
action to the word. And thus the elderly couple as- 
cended the hill together, like lovers — which indeed they 
were ; for the past had been called up and their 
thoughts were there. 


II. 


April is such a month for playing fast and loose "with 
every undertaking whose success is dependent on fair 
weather, that Mr. Foster, after consulting with the 
stewards of the church, decided to postpone until May 
the series of meetings he contemplated holding. 

In the interim, the minister was not idle. He went 
out several times a week to call on some member of his 
flock ; and, like a general on the eve of battle, urged 
his leaders to prepare for the coming contest. 

He was ready for it. He had prepared himself by 
prayer and meditation, and he felt that his people 
should do the same, so he told them. 

Improve the time, my brother, he would say to 
one, during the few weeks that intervene, in getting 
your own heart aroused, and then you will reach others 
who are without hope and without God in the world. 

To another it would be, The harvest truly is great, 
but the laborers are few : the few, then, must labor the 
harder, brother. Pray for strength I” And to still 
another, ^^Put on your armor, sister I” 

Thus as he met one and another, at home, on the 
street, or in the mill, he improved the moment given 
him to sow the seed of preparation, and with such suc- 
cess that his people became at first awakened : and 
as he continued his labors among them, they roused 


18 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


into a state of religious fervor which increased as the 
time of the meetings drew near. 

He witnessed this increasing interest with no little 
satisfaction — absolute joy he never felt at anything. 

‘^1 feel that God is with us, Mary/^ he remarked to 
his wife, on returning home after one of these expe- 
ditions. ^^You know that I have never before delib- 
erately started out to inaugurate an old-fashioned 
revival : hut that is what I am now attempting. I have 
been earnestly praying God to manifest his power here, 
in a way that He has never done before. I believe He 
hears me, and is about to answer. My soul already feels 
strengthened, and rejoices at what I see. I have always 
loved my work ; and lately, as I have been made to feel 
that the Master calls for greater zeal, and more direct 
contact with lost souls, my love for the work and for 
souls has greatly increased ; but, Mary, that which my 
heart most desires, God has not yet granted. You know 
what I mean. Like David, my soul continually cries 
out : ‘ O, my son ! my son V Ah , Mary, what though 
at that great day I can stand before my Maker with the 
thousands who are to be saved through my labors here, 
and for every soul a jewel shall be added to my crown, 
if my son is not there ! Oh, think of it, Mary ! If 
Ernest is not saved, can I rejoice ?” 

^^Dear husband, we must be patient, and continue to 
pray and hope. Ernest is such a loving and dutiful 
son — obedient in everything but this — that we should 
be thankful, and trust God for the rest, believing that 
our prayers for him will not be in vain.'’^ 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


19 


You know/^ coutinued her husband, what a dis- 
appointment it was to me that he would not enter the 
ministry, following the example of his father and grand- 
father. And now, with sorrow, I notice the absence of 
any desire on his part to become a Christian and join 
the church. 

am not sure, Charles, that Ernest has made a 
mistake in choosing to enter business instead of the 
ministry. He certainly is succeeding famously as man- 
ager of the mills, and Mr. Morton says he can retain his 
position as long as he will, and may in time become an 
owner. Think of that, Charles. For my part, I am 
proud of our hoy.” 

I am not unmindful of all this. Ernest is receiving 
a good business education from a very sagacious and 
thorough business man. So far, it is well. But Mr. 
Morton is a man of lax religious views : and seeing, as I 
do, Ernest indifferent to the demands of religion, I 
tremble for his soul.’’ 

^^Indifferent ! I do not think so. He attends church 
regularly. I know he is not a member, and takes no 
part, hut his life is pure.” 

^^But he is not a Christian, Mary.” 

I am not sure — comparing him with some men, he 
doesn’t seem unchristian — to me.” 

^^Not unchristian ! Mary, you surprise me ! There is 
no neutral or intermediate ground in Christian ethics. 
Ernest is either a Christian or a sinner — saved or lost. 
Which do you think ?” 

‘^Are not all men sinners?” asked Mrs. Foster. 


20 


PRIEST VND PURITAN 


‘^Even we, who call ourselves saints, — are we without 
sin?” 

But we repent, we pray, we seek to do God’s will, 
we accept of Christ, and we separate ourselves from the 
world,” replied her husband with much earnestness. 

‘^True,” assented his wife, ^^and Ernest tells me that 
he tries to do right : that he repents of wrongdoing : 
that he accepts of Christ, and loves him : and that he 
prays daily and hourly, in his way, and — I believe him. 
It would be a great comfort to me if he would unite with 
the church, but when I urge it upon him, he replies, 
^ I am not ready, mother : let me work in my way for 
the present.’ ” 

Ah, yes, his way ! How many times has this answer 
of the sinner met my entreaties ! Ernest is attracted by 
the pleasures of the world : he loves sin, and not right- 
eousness. Do you know that he dances?” 

Sometimes— not often,” meekly replied Mrs. Fos- 
ter. 

And that he smokes?” 

He admits to me that he smokes a little.” 

And this is his way — in the eyes of all the world in- 
dulging in sinful pleasures and practices : and in secret 
striving to reconcile his conscience, and allay his doubts 
by mock repentance and insincere prayer. What he 
seems to be to the world, he is — one of its votaries. But 
his hypocrisy will not deceive God, hut only make his 
own condemnation more sure.” 

‘‘ Charles, this is anger, and it leads you to do fear- 
ful injustice to Ernest, for which God forgive you ! 


PHIEST AND PURITAN 


n 

Ernest is not a hypocrite. He makes no false pretenses, 
but is what he seems to be. But if he were as had as 
your wicked words imply, our only hopes of winning him 
from the error of his ways would he through the exercise 
of patience : and by displaying to him our love so plainly 
that he could never be unmindful of its greatness and 
constancy. Are you anxious for the soul of our son ? I 
charge you, then, to put away all impatience and anger ! 
These will not help you to win him : and if you fail be- 
cause of these, God will call you to an account for your 
fatal mistake.” 

The minister looked with surprise at his wife. She 
had spoken with great earnestness, and with an authori- 
tative manner never before employed. The mother’s 
love, which he had affronted, had by that affront been 
led to rise in its might, and to arouse as with an electric 
spark every faculty of her mind, and array them all in 
the defense of her son. For the first time in his life the 
husband was overawed by his wife. He sat in silence 
for a few moments, then looked at his wife to find her 
gazing out of the window. He read in her countenance 
that she had said her final word upon the matter. 

What then ? Was he to confess that he had been too 
harsh in his judgment, and to recant ? He was not pre- 
pared to do that. For he was not sure that he had not 
been altogether Just. 

He could not convince himself that his son was not 
alienated from God : and that his mother, blinded by 
her love, was not disposed to condone his faults, and 
trust to time and chance for reformation. 


^2 


t>felEST AND PURITAK 


Did she realize that to treat the matter leniently 
meant to encourage Ernest to procrastinate ? And was 
she awake to the fact that procrastination was perilous 
to the sinner? Yet he did not for a moment ques- 
tion the noble piety of his wife : he had never known a 
more perfect saint. 

Thus he found himself in a painful dilemma, in which 
regard for his wife — not to say fear of her — prevented 
his repeating what he had said, while on the other hand 
a sense of his duty to his son forbade anything like re- 
traction. In great distress of mind, and without an- 
other word, he arose and went to his study. 

Mrs. Foster, looking out of the window towards the 
mills, saw her son come out of the office with a glass 
in his hand and walk up the street. He was evidently 
going to ^^the spring.^’ 

Mortonville like many other places had its famous 
resorts where the thirst of its citizens could be satisfied. 
But unlike many of them the beverage dispensed here 
was costless and harmless. Mortonville had never sup- 
ported a saloon. The manufacturer would never allow 
one to get a foothold there. If he sold a piece of land 
for any purpose, he would always put into the deed a 
proviso that no intoxicating drink should ever be sold on 
the premises. The Methodist Elder and the Catholic 
Bishop had each smiled as he read this extraordinary 
provision in the deed conveying the land for the church. 

Nature had joined hands with the manufacturer in 
the encouragement of temperance by dotting the moun- 
tain side east of the village with reservoirs of clear and 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


23 


pure water which were never dry, and every house had 
an abundant supply. 

In addition to these a wonderful spring had been dis- 
covered at the north end of the village when the canal 
was built. This spring was remarkable for two things : 
its great flow, and the change in the temperature of the 
water from lukewarmness in winter to icy coldness in 
summer. The spring was just out of the village and was 
reached by crossing a pretty little foot-bridge that spanned 
the canal. Comfortable wooden seats surrounded the 
fountains, and the branches of contiguous elms and 
birches protected the visitors from the heat of the sun. 

April had come in cold, but after the twentieth there 
was a change and the weather grew warm rapidly. The 
snow banks disappeared almost like dew before the sun. 
The mud quickly dried up, and on this day, the last of 
the month, the heat was midsummer-like. 

The young superintendent felt as light-hearted as the 
birds which were singing in the trees by the side of the 
canal as he walked up the street. The care of the mills, 
no easy task, had not yet unduly sobered the hopeful 
and joyous spirit which he had inherited from his 
mother. He had been in Mr. Morton^s employ for three 
years, and the year before, at the age of twenty-four, 
had been promoted to the responsible position he now 
held. 

Fortunate young man ! Not only in the amiable dispo- 
sition he possessed, which made him many friends, but 
also in the bright prospects before him. Mr. Morton had 
become very much attached to him both on account of 


24 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


his agreeable manner and of his success in managing the 
mills. Considered from a worldly point of view, Ernest was 
more successful than his fatlier. Mrs. Foster had brought 
about the appointment of her husband in Morton ville that 
she might have her son with them for a few years. 

The pride of fond mothers may not always be justifi- 
able, but if the reader had seen this tall youth as he 
sauntered towards the spring on this warm April after- 
noon, it is possible that he, or she, would allow that in 
Mrs. Foster^s case it was pardonable. 

Something in Ernest Foster^s looks always commanded 
respect, and often admiration. 

To the general beholder, he had a strong and noble, 
but hardly a handsome face. Perhaps a physiognomist 
would have discerned a beauty in it. Not the kind that is 
wholly dependent upon the complexion, the color or 
cast of the eye, or Jhe curve of the lip — that is the kind 
that is but skin deep ; it was a beauty likely to be peren- 
nial even though the eye lose much of its brightness, and 
the cheek much of its color, because its source is that 
immortal fountain — a pure soul. 

Unique in his physiognomy, Ernest Foster was uncon- 
ventional in his habits. Contrary to the common prac- 
tice among young men of his age he wore his dark brown 
hair long, and as it was very thick, and would not easily 
submit to parting, the wavy and luxuriant mass was 
combed straight back from his forehead. While the 
youths of the neighborhood bent their whole energies 
to start and develop a mustache, he was as closely 
shaven as a Catholic priest. 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


25 


He had, however, no priestly look or air. The lines 
and motions of his lips were on the whole so pleasant 
to see that is doubtful whether a mustache would have 
been an ornament to his face. 

The lips were thin, and in repose slightly compressed, 
giving to his mouth a peculiar expression of mingled 
sadness and severity. But let them be moved by smiles, 
laughter or speech, and the transformation was as agree- 
able as it was surprising. His head was square-shaped 
and rather large. His hazel eyes were dangerous or 
harmless according to which met their gaze — suscep- 
tible maiden, or hard and proud man. 

From no one but his mother had he ever received any 
of the sweets of flattery, and that discreet woman, whose 
love was as wise as it was deep, tempered her praise with 
such a healthy admixture of caution that he was not 
made vain by it. 

As Ernest drew near to the spring, he heard sing- 
ing. It was a woman^s voice, and disclosed such pow- 
er and sweetness as it arose high and clear, or sank into 
soft cadences, and was so different from any voice he 
had ever heard in Mortonville, that he stood still to lis- 
ten, and did not move again until the singer had 
ceased. 

It must be a prima donna, he said to himself, as 
he resumed his walk towards the spring. 

Emerging from behind the low trees which bordered 
the path, and looking in the direction of the spring, he 
saw a girlish flgure seated on a bench, with her back to- 
wards him, and her hat beside her. A mass of golden 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


hair hung quite to her waist. He paused a moment to 
admire the graceful poll, and then stepped upon the foot- 
bridge. At the sound of his step the stranger arose and 
turned : and he found himself face to face with — as it 
seemed to him — the first beautiful woman he had ever 
seen. He hesitated a moment, then lifted his hat, and 
started forward. The next step was foreordained to 
fall upon an unsound plank, which broke with a crash, 
and threw him upon his face. 

A groan from him — for he had sprained his ankle — a 
stifled cry from her : and she was bending over him — 
pity, sympathy, and beauty personified. 

She helped him to arise, to hobble across the bridge, 
and reach a bench near the spring. 

His glass lay in a thousand fragments on the bridge 
and in the stream. She filled her own and gave him to 
drink. Was ever such nectar drank by mortal man be- 
fore ? His hand was bleeding from an ugly cut, and 
she gave him her handkerchief to bind around it. 

Then — the excitement over — she stood perplexed 
near him, as if in doubt whether to go or stay. 

Ernest looked up into her face, made a grimace as 
his ankle twinged, and said, 

^‘1 see that when we kneel, we gain your sympathy. 
Had I been a little quicker to apprehend what was due 
from me, I should have saved myself some pain.^' 

^^Ah, MonsieuiV^ she replied, I am afraid you are 
seriously hurt. Can you walk 

^‘1 don’t know. I’ll try,” he answered. 

He tried. Not very well,” said he. 


PRIEST and puritan 


^7 


‘^ISTo? Well, that ^9 bad. Let me think how lean 
help Monsieur. Ah, I know. I will get the crutch that 
I noticed in the shed, soon after we came here. ’’ 

Came here ? Where do you live ?^’ asked Ernest. 

Over there, was her reply : and she pointed across 
the Shallow. 

What, my grandfather’s place?” he asked surprised. 

No — my uncle’s.” 

^^0, to be sure. Father Le Grand is your uncle, 
then. And so you live there? And you and yours 
have supplanted me and mine ? It is enough. I go — 
that is, as soon as I can. I am really sorry to trouble 
you farther, but it seems to have been foreordained 
that for a season my right ankle is to be a broken reed. 
I await my grandfather’s crutch.” 

Be patient, and I will return in a few moments,” 
was her command, and then she left him. She was soon 
back with a large and heavy crutch that Ernest’s grand- 
father once had occasion to use for a short time. 

What a dandy walking stick it is, isn’t it ?” ex- 
claimed Ernest, as she handed the crutch over to him. 

Don’t break it !” said she, laughing. 

Break it ! I should be as likely to break the trestle 
of the bridge,” he replied. 

Ernest found the crutch a little short, but it would 
answer. He arose and started to leave the spring. The 
young lady walked in silence by his side. They crossed 
the foot-bridge and the road, went to the end of the 
bridge which crossed the Shallow, and then they halt- 
ed. 


28 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


Madem5iselle/^ began Ernest (that word was half 
of his French vocabulary : the only other word he knew 
was Oui”), you have befriended a sort of religious 
waif. I am such a wayward sort of Protestant that I 
fear none but the most ^ liberal ’ churches of that be- 
lief would think me fit to be admitted into member- 
ship. I am not certain but Father Le Grand would 
look upon me as a heretic. And yet I reverence and 
love that best of all books, which my anxious friends so 
freely quote against me : and I turn to it now for words 
to express, better than my own can, my opinion of the 
service you have done me — ^ Inasmuch as ye have done 
it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have 
done it unto me.’ Mademoiselle, you have made the 
lame to walk. I find myself very greatly in debt to you. 
What can I do to repay you ?” 

‘^Oh, Monsieur !” One white hand went up in a ges- 
ture of protestation; then it fell into the other, and both 
were clasped in front of her. It was nothing. You 
owe me nothing. You have too much gratitude for so 
slight a matter.” 

Slight? Why, see ! lean he cried, limping 

a step or two to emphasize his declaration. Think ! 
Will you not command me? Can I do nothing for the 
good turn you have served me?” 

A new thought suddenly struck the young lady. She 
looked up into his face, smiling and asked : 

^^Is Monsieur rich?” 

“ Relatively, yes — and no : with only moderate econ- 
omy I save a part of my salary.” 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


29 


‘^0, Monsieur, I pity the needy and the suifering. 
If I were rich — hut Avould I if I were ? — I think I would 
make some hearts a little happier. I know of two fam- 
ilies that are really destitute. I would not have mentioned 
it hut for the thought that came suddenly to me that 
perhaps the gratitude of Monsieur might he the oppor- 
tunity of God. A little flour, wood and clothing, now 
and then, would make these people comfortable. But 
they are Catholics, and perhaps Monsieur objects 

Mademoiselle, I hope you will yet think better of 
me. Why, I am able to walk only by the grace of a 
Catholic. The thought of that alone -would be enough 
to prevent the bigotry you were so unkind as to hint at. 
These poor people shall have the things they need,” 
said Ernest. 

You are extremely good : they shall be happy, and 
therefore I shall be glad I” exclaimed the young lady ; 
and Ernest thought her beauty greatly enhanced by the 
exultation she seemed to feel. 

^^You had paid me well before for this proposed 
charity, but in your last assertion, you offer me h great 
bonus,” he remarked. And then, I am doing this for 
yoU) you know.” 

She blushed slightly as she replied : Say, rather, 

because it is good to do it.” 

Certainly,” said he, because one who is good 
prompts me to do good. I wonder who this is that first 
heals and then reforms me ? I should be very glad to 
know her name.” 


30 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


I cannot inform you. Monsieur. The person who 
has done all that you claim is unknown to me.” 

Well, your own name will do just as well. I trust you 
will not think me unreasonable in wishing to know with 
whom I am to enter upon this great missionary work T* 

With a naivete that charmed the young man, she 
said slowly, Under the circumstances, I think it per- 
missible for me to aid you in introducing yourself.” 

Ah, thank you.” He lifted his hat. I hasten to 
present a crippled gentleman by the name of Ernest 
Foster, to Miss ” 

“Agnes Gleauclaude,” added she, helping him out: 
and both bowed politely. 

And now. Miss Gleauclaude, allow me, as my friend 
Jim Dobson says, to ^ talk at random’ for a moment. 
You have elected me to feed the hungry and clothe the 
poor. That means, I presume, no slight demand on my 
purse. I am not a millionaire, and who knows but that 
I may have to deny myself certain indulgences to which 
I have been accustomed ? Think of it ! That I should 
practise the least bit of self-denial seems almost incred- 
ible, doesn’t it? Now, in consideration of my giving up 
something, and for the purpose of encouraging me to 
steadfastness in this noble work that we jointly take up, 
won’t you promise to sing for me now and then ? I hap- 
pen to know that you can sing.” 

She colored a little as she answered, “You may 
have heard me at the springs?” 

“I did.” 

“ And you liked it?” 


A 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


31 


So much that I would forego many things to hear 
you sometimes.” 

Would you, really? Well, it pleases me to please 
others : and so, I promise to sing for you.” 

‘^Ah, do you indeed? I am delighted to hear you 
say so. And now, when ?” 

'^When? Well, if some day you take it into your 
head to walk over to your grandfather’s house, and you 
say to me, ^ I came to hear you sing, ’ it will probably be 
then.” 

He lifted his hat, said “I will come,” and limped 
away. 

Ernest was so absorbed in his thoughts all the way to 
the mill that if he had been put on oath the moment he 
had reached there, he could not have named one of sev- 
eral well-known people whom he had met and to whom 
he had smilingly bowed. 

^MVell ! well ! my boy, what’s this? — a broken leg?” 
exclaimed Mr. Morton, who was in the office when 
Ernest entered. 

0, no, sir, not nearly as bad as that. I’m only a 
little down at the heel,” replied the young man, settling 
into a chair. 

Ernest then related to the manufacturer the circum- 
stances of his mishap — withholding certain incidents 
connected with it which he considered non-essential. 

Major, ” said the mill owner, addressing the book- 
keeper, can you and I run the mills for a few days 
without this young man ?” 

think so, sir,” was the answer. 


32 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


You hear what he say?/’ remarked Mr. Morton to 
Ernest. We ’ll give you a few days in which to get 
that ankle straightened out. But mind that you are not 
too long about it, or the Major and I may get the mills 
into such a state as to throw you into a relapse when you 
try to get them in order again.” 

Keluctant as Ernest was to lay up for even a day, his 
ankle had become so painful, and was so badly swollen, 
that he was forced to accept his employer’s offer. It 
was nearly a week after when he reappeared at the office 
to resume his duties. Though still quite lame, he came 
cheerfully to his post, walking with the aid of a heavy 
cane, instead of the crutch. 

How much a delicate piece of cambric, nicely folded, 
and bearing the initials “ A. G.,” which he carried in the 
left breast pocket of his coat, had to do with his cheer- 
fulness it would be impossible to tell. 


III. 


April weather lasted through the first week of May, 
and then came a pleasant change, and the revival meet- 
ings began. 

As Mr. Foster rose the first evening to lay out the 
work, and to urge his people to constant prayer during 
the time of the meetings, he faced a full house : and in 
their accustomed places were most of those faithful few 
who had upheld the hands of his predecessors on many 
similar occasions in the years gone by. 

The minister closed his opening remarks by requesting 
the brothers and sisters to take up the time.” 

An old man, with scant white locks falling nearly to 
his shoulders, and who sat on the front seat, was the first 
to respond. 

It was Uncle Bina Holden. Could anything better be 
said of any one than what was truly said of him by all 
who knew him — 

^^He is a good man.” 

He had scarcely missed a meeting of the church since 
Methodism had started in the village. 

My brethren and sisters,” he began, ‘^I’m tryin’ to 
serve the Lord, but sometimes its all I can muckle. 
Pride, and selfishness, and a hankerin’ arter the things 
of the world hev got a pretty strong holt on me. Pray 
for me, that I may be more humbler an’ faithf uller. ” 

3 




PRIEST AND PURITAN 


After he had given his exhortation, as was his custom. 
Uncle Bina knelt down and prayed: and although in his 
prayer he repeated again the familiar expressions — some 
one or more of which had been in every prayer he had 
made for thirty years, yet, in such respect and reverence 
was he held by all present, that nearly every head was 
bowed as he knelt down: and an unusual quietness pre- 
served until he arose again. Even those somewhat ma- 
ligned young people of Mortonville, who, not entirely 
lacking in a sense of humor, could not always keep from 
smiling as they noted the oddities in speech and man- 
ner of some of the Methodist brothers and sisters — the 
class who were accused of going to the meetings for 
amusement or scoffing, were decorous and attentive while 
Uncle Bina prayed. 

And as he pleaded with the Lord ^^for them that is 
out A the ark of safety,” there were not many of these 
young people who did not feel that the reference was to 
them — as certainly as if their names had been called. 

Uncle Bina was not 'umble after the manner of Uriah 
Heep, but his humility was genuine. No one, not even 
those who had known him the longest and most inti- 
mately, doubted that. It was as unquestioned as his 
piety. His earthly possessions were not many or large. 
They consisted of a few rods of land, and a few hives of 
bees — he was an authority on bees. His dealings ” with 
others were characterized by the strictest integrity. In- 
deed he was so anxious to give every purchaser of honey^ 
or ‘‘garden truck,” a little more than the exact weigh 
or measure — for conscience sake — that in a worldly view. 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


35 


he cheated himself. His whole life — known and read 
by his neighbors — seemed to belie his prayer-meeting 
utterances concerning his pride and his hankerin^ after 
the things of the world.’’ And so, strange as it may 
seem, Uncle Bina became a sort of stumbling block to 
many of these young men and maidens who frequented 
the meetings, who were looked upon by the true saints 
as without hope and without God in the world.” For 
if Uncle Bina was yet full of pride, what encouragement 
was there for them to think that they could ever become 
humble ? And if this apparently good old man confess- 
ed that, notwithstanding his lifelong practice of giving 
his coat to the man who had already taken his cloak, he 
so lusted for the things of the world that he needed the 
prayers of his brothers and sisters to keep him from 
yielding to this strong desire, could they expect even a 
measurable success in attempting to give up the world ? 
The conclusion reached by some of these youth was that 
Uncle Bina, and possibly, two or three others in Mor- 
ton ville, including the minister, might be saved: but as 
for the rest of the people, there was not the slightest 
hope for them — no more than there was for the heathen. 

Prompt to follow Uncle Bina was Brother Styles. 
Those sitting near the minister imagined they heard 
him sigh as this individual arose. 

Nathan Styles was also a very constant attendant, and 
regular speaker, at all meetings. He was a very tall, slim 
man, with a face clean-shaven down to his chin, and 
under that and running from ear to ear was a thick 
growth of whiskers, kept closely cropped. He wore a 


36 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


double-breasted frock coat — a sort of Prince Albert — 
which he kept buttoned, and when speaking in public, 
one hand was thrust between the buttons on his breast. 

There were .a few who believed that Brother Styles 
looked upon himself as a sort of rival of the minister: 
not in authority, perhaps, but as a speaker, and a former 
of public opinion. Nathan was not far from fifty years 
old at this time, and, so far as is known, no one ever 
questioned the truth of his frequent assertion that 
am-er in the very prime of life-er."” 

How much Nathan w'as likely to contribute to the 
success of the revival, may be imagined after reading 
the opening sentences of his exhortation recorded 
below. 

‘^Be ye holy-er as I am holy-er saith the Lord-er. 
Brethren, the Lord-er commands us-er to be holy-er, even 
as-er He is holy-er. What is it-er to be holy-er ? Is it 
to dance-er? Or tocheat-er? Or to swear-er? No, it 
is-er to attend Divine service : to-er exhort, and to-er 
pray. In short-er, it is-er to be holy-er.'’^ 

After Brother Styles had closed his remarks, the lead- 
er of the singing started a hymn, and all who could. 
Joined in. The singing over, Mr. Foster called on Sis- 
ter AYalcott to “lead in prayer.’’ 

It was an old lady who knelt in answer to the minister’s 
request, with half a dozen brothers and sisters kneeling 
down at the same time. How still the house became as she 
began ! And how the sound of her voice, and the words 
of her prayer, thrilled the heart of the listener, especially 
if he was a stranger ! No one who had heard Sister 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


37 


Walcott pray could ever forget it. Fortunate that sin- 
ner above others, who had such a petitioner at the Mercy 
Seat, in his behalf ! There are some living to-day — 
separated by many miles of distance and many years of 
time from the scenes here recorded — in w'hose memory 
Sister Walcott, kneeling in prayer as she was that night, 
remains the most unique, and at the same time the 
most impressive and revered figure among the many de- 
vout men and women it has been their lot to know. 
And among those who thus hold her in reverential re- 
membrance, one — as he writes these lines — is reminded 
of his experience when, as a boy of fifteen, he attended 
his first prayer meeting, and also saw and heard her for 
the first time ; and his mind dwells at length, and with 
solemn interest on the incidents recalled. 

It was the first time he had ever heard a woman speak 
in a public place. But that was not all : this woman 
was kneeling on the floor — almost at his feet. The first 
thought that came to him was, How can she kneel and 
pray before all the w'orld?” Up to that moment the 
boy's pride would have revolted at the thought of his 
doing such a thing : and had he seen his mother thus 
engaged — in a public place — he would have blushed with 
shame. Yet here was a woman, and a mother (for she 
had a son who was a missionary in a distant land), doing 
it. 

Until then he had looked upon pride as closely allied 
to courage, if not the same thing : and believed that if 
one were proud he would be found to be brave also. And 
he was proud. But when he realized that with all his 


38 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


pride it would have been impossible for him to do what 
Sister Walcott was doing, he began to doubt his right to 
be called brave : and by the time she had closed her 
prayer he felt that he was a moral coward. 

Sister Walcott’s prayer was not a long one, and it did 
not need to be. It stirred the hearts of the people as 
nothing yet had done — as doubtless the minister intended 
it should. It was immediately followed by two or three 
prayers from some of the people who were on their 
knees, and then all resumed their seats. 

During the singing which followed — suddenly, like an 
explosion, and rising above the singing as though it were 
a whisper, the word Amen !” rent the air, startling 
the congregation, and causing a stranger who sat in 
front of the man who had shouted to spring to his feet 
as if he had been shot. This was the first intimation 
that Dan ” Morse was getting waked up 

Dan was a blacksmith — and worked in one of Mor- 
ton’s mills. He was called a shouting Methodist, and he 
was rightly named. The “Amen” was soon followed 
by a terrific Bless God !” from Dan ; and again the 
stranger forgot where he was, and sprang up, only to re- 
sume his seat and to wait nervously for another cry. 

When Dan had got worked up to a certain pitch, he 
knelt down to pray. His prayer was something terrible 
for weak nerves to endure. AVhile praying he appeared 
to be in as much agony as a man burning at the stake, 
and pleading ' for mercy from his tormentors. He 
squirmed and twisted about, and pounded the seat with 
his clenched fists. The tears fell like rajn from his eyes. 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


39 


His words were yelled rather than spoken, so that he 
was heard all over the village. Two hoys, who sat hack 
of him, were almost as unhappy as Dan seemed to he. 
For when he turned to pray he faced them. His awful 
voice, and the contortions of his face, frightened the 
poor lads exceedingly. He uttered his words rapidly, 
and threw the saliva from his mouth to such an extent 
that the clothing of the ho^s was dotted over with specks 
of white foam. 

If the success of a revival depended upon the noise 
made and the tears shed, then Dan would make this the 
most successful one ever known. 

When he had resumed his seat, another hymn was 
sung. Then there was something like a pause, and then, 
evidently feeling that his opportunity had come, a little 
old man, with a very ugly and wrinkled face, slowly 
arose. The minister covered his face with his hand and 
groaned in spirit. 

As the little old man — called by the boys of the vil- 
lage, ^^Old Wrinkles” — arose and began to speak, 
another man got up, walked out of the room, descended 
the stairs, and remained outside until the speaker sat 
down, when he returned to his place. 

Not long after, the man who had been out was moved 
by the Spirit — that is, some spirit — to exhort : and as he 
also arose, ^‘Old Wrinkles” left the room. Not being 
as sure-footed as the other, he slipped after leaving the 
upper landing of the stairs, and rolled clear to the bot- 
tom, making in the descent a great noise with his 
boots. He was not, however, badly hurt, as he re- 


40 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


appeared soon after his antagonist had closed his 
remarks. 

This singular performance of these Christian brethren 
had been kept up for more than a year. The explana- 
tion of it was that each one had learned in some way — it 
was supposed to be by trading with him — that the other 
was a hypocrite, and neither one was willing to remain 
where the other was pretending to give the experience of 
a Christian. Mr. Foster had tolerated this sort of per- 
formance as long as he could. It would not do to allow 
it to continue if he expected the revival to prosper. 
The next day he notified these devout and amiable 
brethren that if they could not remain through the 
meeting it would be much better not to go at all. And 
so, rather than have their pure souls poisoned by each 
other’s venom, they both kept away from future 
meetings. 

The moment “Old Wrinkles” had got back into 
place, and his heavy boots had ceased their racket, the 
minister rose, and invited, and urged, all those who 
desired to be prayed for to come forward to the “Anx- 
ious Seat ” : and he pointed to the front seat — in line 
with and at the left of Uncle Bina. 

“ I beseech you, my young friends, to come ! Come, 
and find salvation !” he said. And then, after directing 
the leader to sing, he left the platform and went among 
those he had invited to persuade them to go forward. 
He made his way slowly from one to another, whispering 
a few words of warning or entreaty in the ear of each. 
He was not altogether unsuccessful — two or three arose 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


41 


slowly, and with their handkerchiefs to their eyes, went 
forward. He came at length to the storekeeper’s pretty 
daughter — J ennie W heeler. 

“Ah, Jennie,” he exclaimed, “won’t you come? 
Don’t you want to he saved ?” 

Her cheeks were soon wet with tears, and her hand- 
kerchief went to her eyes. She replied brokenly : 

“I do want to he saved, hut I can’t make up my 
mind to take this step to-night. I want to think it 
over.” 

“I have thought it over for you, Jennie,” he replied. 
“Don’t delay, you may not live for a second invitation. 
Come, Jennie, while you may.” 

“I mean to do right,” she said, “hut I must think 
it over. I am not quite ready. ” 

“Hot ready, Jennie ! Is it the ball next week that 
you think of ? Cannot you give up dancing for the sake 
of your Saviour ?” 

“ I loould give it up if I thought He wished it. I 
don’t think it’s the hall, but I — I’m not quite ready 
to take the step you ask me.” 

And so he left her, and repeated his effort with an- 
other. 

After the minister had left her Jennie thought over 
her answer, and concluded that after all, the ball had 
something to do with her refusal to comply with his re- 
quest, more than she really thought when she answered 
as she did. The fact was that she was preparing a new 
dress for that same ball, and she was expecting to look 
prettier than ever in it. And did she think that if she 


42 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


went forward for prayers there would be no occasion to 
use that new dress ? She knew that whether she thought 
of it or not, for she knew very well that dancing was 
looked upon by Mr. Foster and all the Methodist church 
members as almost an unpardonable sin. But was it 
really so bad ? She _asked herself that question as she 
continued her reflections. She knew it would be entirely 
inconsistent for a Methodist to dance, that is, for a 
church member. But there loere church members who 
danced — Episcopalians, all, almost, and some Oongrega- 
tionalists. Could the Methodists then be the only truly 
Christian people in the world ? 

Another thing she thought of, if dancing were so very 
bad, why did Ernest Foster do it ? Why did his father 
allow him to do it ? At this point, it is greatly to be 
feared, she forgot nearly everything else in thinking how 
handsome the ministers son looked at the last ball 
when she danced with him, and wondering whether he 
would attend the next one, and whether he would ad- 
mire her new dress. 

Different readers will be likely to make widely different 
judgments concerning Jennie based upon this glimpse 
of her thoughts at a trying moment. Some will con- 
demn her, and believe that Christ did so then and there. 
Some again will think her not so very bad, and confl- 
dently hope that Cod’s plan of salvation will be found to 
be broad enough to take in not only the Rev. Charles 
Foster, who knew he was doing right, but pretty Jennie 
Wheeler, who, although she had many doubts about her 
being perfect, after seeing herself in the mirror 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


43 


the minister held up to her, would not own that 
she was, as Mr. Foster declared, the enemy of her 
Saviour. 

When no more could he persuaded to go forward, Mr. 
Foster knelt down and prayed long and earnestly for 
those who were on the anxious seat. As his prayer in- 
creased in fervency, Dan Morse began his shouting : 
and all those who were inclined to be emotional or de- 
monstrative, relieved their feelings by weeping or groan- 
ing. Thus by one and another adding a little, the 
whole congregation was at length wrought up to a state 
of considerable excitement. Even Nathan Styles, who 
was perhaps as hard to move through his tender emotions 
as any one there, was heard to say quite plainly : 

Praise God-er !” 

Before closing the meeting the minister felt called 
upon to solemnly warn young men and maidens against 
the evils of dancing in general, and of the coming ball 
in particular. 

Ah, my young friends !” he exclaimed; “you will 
lie awake nights, thinking of the ball next week ; but 
not a moments anxiety will you have for your soul. 
And you, my young sisters, if your sole thought is to 
see how by adding a ribbon here, and a piece of lace 
there, you can make that ball dress so much prettier 
than the last — well, you may succeed and do it — you 
may be even the belle of the ball. 

^^But let me tell you — let me loarn you, my dear 
young sister, that if that is the only dress you have on 
when you come to stand before the Great Judge, you 


44 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


will blush with shame, and fear shall seize hold of you 
when lie pronounces it ^filthy rags/ 

And but for that awful fear and sinking of the 
heart, you would be filled with envy as you see Sister 
Walcott standing there dressed in a magnificent white 
robe of righteousness, and with a crown upon her 
head 1 ” 

Having succeeded pretty well in giving the young 
people something in addition to the ball dress ” to 
think of and keep them awake that night, Mr. Foster 
closed the meeting. 


IV. 

The revival was now the main theme of discussion in 
the village. Its defenders and defamers met in argument 
on the street, in the store and in the mill. 

The opponents of the religious movement attacked 
Dan Morse, but got little satisfaction from him. He 
contented himself by replying, The devil is a great 
critic or, ‘^Read John, 7th chapter, part of 17th 
verse : ^ If any man will do His will, he shall know of 
the doctrine whether it be of God.^ Try that, brother, 
and see, after you have had experience, what you think 
of revivals.’’ Dan would then hammer away at his 
anvil, or work away at his lathe. To those who con- 
tinued to pester him, he would either make no reply at 
all, or he would now and then look up from his work 
and say, ‘^Try the antidote for critics found in John, 
7th: 17th.” 

Dan was of the opinion that a person who always 
wanted to argue on matters of Christian duty, was 
more anxious to get rid of his obligations than to 
obtain light as to what was justly demanded of 
him. 

This was not the view of David Hoffman — the leader 
of a small body of Adventists that Mortonville con- 
tained. Hoffman ridiculed this idea of Dan’s, saying. 


46 


PEIEST AND PURITAN 


If a man won’t argue, that’s all I want to know 
about him.” 

The Adventist leader was a man not far from sixty- 
five. He never shaved, and rarely trimmed his beard, 
and the result was a full and very long growth. He 
aimed in this to imitate the old patriarchs, as in other 
matters — for instance, food and dress — he was governed, 
as he claimed, by the Scriptures. 

The meetings of the Adventists were characterized by 
hair-splitting discussions, in which there were some re- 
markable interpretations of Bible declarations. Hoff- 
man was really a materialist — claiming that the soul was 
not immortal : and drawing, in an ingenious way, evi- 
dence from the Bible (conclusive to himself) to prove it. 
He had been for years a very diligent student of that 
book. 

Few of those he met could quote as much of the Bible 
as he could : and few in the village could successfully 
meet him in a religious argument. One or two of Mr. 
Foster's predecessors had attempted to overthrow him, 
but met with such poor success as to lose prestige from 
the trial. 

Dan Morse refused to waste time ” with him. Hoff- 
man got the hardest knocks when he engaged in a word 
battle with Jim Dobson. Jim was an earnest Methodist 
brother, but a very nervous man : and Hoffman was his 
^‘bete noir.” The cold criticisms of the Adventists 
would at times so irritate Jim that he would turn on 
the old man, and attack him with such vehemence, and 
throw at him such an array of facts, assertions, bits of 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


47 


ridicule, and Scripture quotations, that the really able 
disputant would he disconcerted, and now and then 
routed. 

The morning after the first revival meeting, Hoffman, 
having an hour to spare, left the mixing room where he 
worked, and went up to visit Dobson, who labored in a 
room by himself, under the office, where he prepared 
some of the supplies of the mill. 

DidnT see you at the meeting last night, said Hoff- 
man, sitting down on a box. 

‘^No, that ere last boy of ourn’s gittin’ his grinders, 
and I had to stay V home ’n help the woman. You 
went, I s’pose ?” 

^‘Yes, I was there. 

How’d they start off ?’^ 

0 — pretty fair — pretty fair — that^s all you could 
say,” answered Hoffman. 

‘‘Of course, remarked Jim, “they didnT start jest 
right in your opinion. AVe Methodists couldnT start 
jest right, you bein^ jedge. But what was outT kilter 

“ Now, hold up, Jim. I liavenT said anything out 
the way, have I 

“ No, but you want to. Come, spit it out — what was 
U pay ? DonT you like revivals ? — en don’t you want 
men saved?” 

“Kevivals? Yes, I do believe in them. : and I do want 
men saved — that’s just what I want. Save men, and not 
talk about their souls. Souls ? There are no such things 
separate from bodies. ^ Man was made a living soul: 
thus saith the Lord.’ ” 


48 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


0, I see ! Man hain’t got no soul. He’s all body — 
flesh. You know H you hain’t got none, don’t you ?” 

Certainly, I am not two creatures : Cod made me 
but one,” replied Hoflman. 

“ Must be then ’t you’re a mummy. I allers thought 
there was suthin’ lackin’ in your case, but I never 
dreamed it was so much.” 

^^Well, have it as you like, Jim, but what I am all 
men are.” 

No, sir, not ’t all,” cried Jim. you had a soul, 

you’d feel it ! You’d kno?v it ! We that hev got ’em 
do.” 

You don’t talk sense, Jim.” 

“ Your kind, you mean — Advent, material sense. I 
hain’t tryin’ to talk that kind.” 

I don’t expect you to listen to reason, but if you 
would, I could give you some arguments going to prove 
the oneness of man that would surprise you.” 

“Git ’em out’n the Bible as usual ?” asked Hobson. 

“Yes, entirely. But now, mind you, I don’t mean 
as interpreted by your kind of commentaries, but I 
mean, take the ^ Thus saith the Lord ’ unadulterated. 
I don’t propose to take anybody’s interpretation.” 

Well, Hoffman, I wanter t’ see that done. You are 
ter prove by passages from the Bible that man haint got 
no soul only the body ?” 

^‘1 think I can,” said Hoffman with a confident air. 

“ Let’s understand,” said Jim, appearing to become 
very much interested in the coming demonstration — 
“ you won’t allow any commentator or explainer around 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


49 


— neither Scott, Clark, Barnes, nor nobody? You 
want simply the ^ Thus saith the Lord V Hain’t I 
right 

^^You are right,” assented Hoffman. 

^‘Well, then, go ahead and demonstrate,^^ exclaimed 
Dobson, after taking from a drawer a Bible printed in 
the original languages, and handing it to the Advent 
leader. Next to the tables o’ stone, I reckon that is 
the nearest to the very ‘ Thus saith the Lord.’ ” 

This is a trick, Jim! — a mere trick! — and not fair 
at all,” cried Hoffman. 

Not fair? Why, it’s jest what you wanted. You 
don’t mean ter say you want one printed in Eiiglisli, do 
ye ?” answered Jim. 

^^Of course I want one I can read,” said Hoffman. 

^^0, you do want one that’s interpreted, do ye? So 
you’re stuck in the fust on’t ! And you can’t make that 
one out? AVell, I thought ez much. You never knew 
that ^ Thus saith the Lord ’ was in the book till some 
one told you so — interpreted it for ye ! And that haint 
all ! You wouldn’t know the fust passage nor word in 
the Bible, if some uv them commentators hadn't know- 
ed a good deal mor’nyou do ! Demon-^tmiQ ! My idee is 
that that Demon o’ yourn ’ll git you into mor’n one 
strait, if you don’t become more humble, and less 
bumptious. ” 

Just at that moment, Ernest Foster came into the 
room, and Hoffman, seeing that there would be no more 
opportunity to make any reply to Jim, arose and went 
out. 


50 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


When the door was closed, Ernest, seeing that Dobson 
was a little nervous, said to him : 

What’s up, Jim ? You seem a little shaky.” 

‘^Do I? Well, I guess I be. Eact on’t is, Hoffman 
gits me all out o’ jint. But I gin him a pill, I reckon.” 

^^Argumentative — was he?” 

I should say he was. Allers is, if he speaks at all. 
Why, if Hoffman fell into the Shallow and was drown- 
ded, I should go upstream to look for his body.” 

“ Take my advice, .Jim — let Hoffman alone. It only 
irritates you to dispute with him, and if at any time 
you seem to get the better of him, you have not won 
him over. He comes up again as combative as ever. 
I’m afraid it unfits you for your best work.” 

Jim looked upon the words of the superintendent as 
a reprimand, and he was overwhelmed with mortifica- 
tion. He turned pale, dropped his hands to his sides, 
and asked : 

Hain’t I allers done my work well ?” 

^‘You misunderstand me,” Ernest made haste to 
reply. did not mean your work for the mill. That 
is perfectly satisfactory. You know we consider you 
one of our very best men. But I referred to other work 
which fora long time I have noticed you and Dan 
Morse were doing. It is this — showing men how, in the 
midst of cares, trials and perplexity, and with little of 
this world’s treasure, one who has what he calls the 
^ Love of God ’ in his heart, can be cheerful, kind, help- 
ful, and as true as steel to his sense of duty. This has 
been your best work^ Jim j and I want to assure you 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


51 


tlilit it bears fruit in a good influence on all of us out- 
siders.” 

Tears were in Jim’s eyes as he looked at the superin- 
tendent and said : You don’t mean ter say that poor, 
ig’rant creeters like me and Dan can influence you 
much, do ye?” 

“ You are not ignorant in some things, Jim. God 
has supplied you with wisdom that learning could 
not give you. Let Hoffman do his own hair-splitting, 
and let your upright, buoyant Christian life be 
your only argument, and you will win him and all of 
us to your way of thinking, if we are to be won at 
all.” 

I hain’t sure but your eggvice is sound : it’s wuth 
tryin’ anyhow,” replied Jim. 

For a long time after the superintendent had left him, 
Dobson stood at his bench cutting up skins for 
roll covers, and, reflecting, suddenly he broke out as 
follows : 

‘^Jim Dobson, stop! Them thoughts and feelin’s 
savors too much of pride and vanity. Can’t you 
stand jest a little praise — you doughhead ! Why, you 
once git it inter yer head that you’ll ever be any 
great punkins, and you’re gone / Humility is fust class 
to tie to just now. Don’t set out to be a great 
man. I wouldn’t do much diffe’nt than you allers did, 
on’y I’d stop arg’eing with Hoffman. I dunno but 
the Super’s done more harm than good by talking so to 
a soft pate like you. But if it on’y encourages ye 
ter try ter do suthin’ really worthy to be done — that is 


52 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


in your line, why then it may not spile yc. But now, I 
tell ye, ye look out 

Jim was at the meeting that night, and not only his 
pastor, but all who had the interest of the revival 
at heart, were glad to see him. He was a great help. 
His exhortations and prayers were always to the 
point : and he was a good bass singer, though troubled 
sometimes to get the words right, as he was a poor 
reader. 

Jim had a listener to his remarks that he was not 
aware of. It was Ernest Foster, who was passing 
the lower hall door when Jim arose to speak ; and being 
interested in the opening sentences, he quietly en- 
tered the hall and sat down. The door at the top of the 
stairs was open, so that Jim could be plainly heard. 

Mr. Foster had chosen as a sort of text to guide the 
brothers and sisters, these words : — My sun, give 
me thine heart,” and Jim was speaking as follows : 

I’ve been a settin’ here and thinkin’ over these 
words of Scripter, and I can’t git away from the 
idee that back of them is a Father yearnin’ and yearnin’ 
for our love, and He can’t take ^ no ’ for an answer. I 
s’pose He sees suthin’ in us that our neighbors don’t see. 
Somehow, brothers and sisters, these words move me 
powerful to-night. I happen to think that I’m a 
father, and know something what a father’s love is, and 
how much he wants his children to love him back 
again. I’.ve tiled to guess what His love might be by 
thinkin’ of my own — and I allowed that if mine 
was ez one drop from a garden sprinkler. His was 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


53 


like the line storm : or if mine was like the heat 
of a match. His was like the whole month of 
August. 

And now, if yo’ll hear with me jest a minit. I’ll tell 
you how great a common father’s love is. For they 
hain’t no commoner — and I might as well admit it — 
ig’ranter one in Morton ville than him who is now 
speakin’. 

I overhearn some one say one day that see my little 
Jimmie playin’ out door, that he wan’t no better 
lookin’ than his father. That meant that he was hum- 
bly, an’ very much so. Well, now I declare to you, I 
was su’prised. For to me he was as han’some as a pic- 
ter. The same one said he had freckles, and the 
reddest hair ever seen. And that was news ter me. I 
was that blind to the outs about him that I had 
overlooked the freckles, and I thought his face was fair 
and uncommon winnin’ like, and as to his hair, I 
could hev sworn that it W'as what is called golden, for ye 
see, it was dearer than gold ter me. 

And mebbe I haint so blind arterall. Mebbe they’s 
a good reason why love makes me see furder and deeper, 
and find more in Jimmie than other folks does. 

^^For it kinder strikes me it’ll be better for him, and 
if it hain’t done so yet, will afore long make him 
love me amost as much ez I do him. If he don’t do that 
I shall have on my heart about ez big a load ez I can 
carry. 

^^Well, sech is man’s love for his child’n. And I 
hain’t no doubt — not a mite, my brothers and sisters, 


54 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


that God’s love to’rds His child’ll is as much greater as 
He is greater than man. And whoever says that God 
don’t feel it when we refuse to give Him our hearts — I 
tell ye that man’s talkin’ at random !” 

^AVell put, gentle, sweet soul ! — and true as I believe. 
God must have inspired you, Jim,” thought Ernest, 
^^and for fear I shall hear some one not thus inspired, I 
will now depart,” and he stole out as quietly as he came 
in. 

After leaving the vestry, Ernest went slowly, and as 
he pretended to believe, aimlessly up the street. He 
had started out from the house simply for a walk — that 
was all. And yet, somehow, he felt quite sure that lie 
should go as far as the bridge that spanned the Shallow. 
As to crossing it when he arrived there — well, he might, 
and he might not. It was some distance away, and he 
certainly could not cross it until he reached it. 

What is the use,” he mused, “of bothering about 
the bridge until I come to it?” 

Here he took a cigar out of his pocket, and as he 
lighted it, reflected that he had never smoked by day- 
light, and presumed his father would say — if he knew it 
— that he had “chosen the night because his deed was 
evil.” He could not deny that his father’s view would, 
in a sense, be true. The habit of smoking was not in its 
incipient stage with him. He consumed two or three 
cigars a week, always in the evening. 

He had never smoked in his father’s presence ; not 
because he felt the habit was positively wrong, but be- 
cause he knew that his father did. The practice wa 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


55 


growing upon him, but he had never cared to be seen 
indulging it. 

His cigar lighted, he resumed his walk and enjoyed 
his smoke. How beautiful the night with its soft and 
balmy air ! And how at peace with all the world he felt, 
as, leaning on his stout stick, he sauntered along. He 
had already forgotten the prayer-meeting. 

The music — so familiar to him at night — of the water 
rushing over the dam a half mile north of the village, 
reached his ears, and now in the light of the early moon 
he could see the water glistening on dam and in river. 

A novice smokes slowly, and but half of Ernest's cigar 
had been turned into smoke and ashes at the moment 
he stepped upon the bridge. 

Leaning against the railing he complacently went on 
with the task of burning the remaining half, while the 
noise of the dam mingled in his ears with the gentle 
murmur of the Shallow gliding slowly by beneath him. 
While thus engaged, he noticed many long shadows — of 
trees and other objects, that stretched westward from 
the eastern bank of the river— some of them reaching 
the blulf, and even touching the house on the bluff. 

Others fell a little short, and others still, a little more. 
Then he distinguished his own; and it was the shortest 
of them all. After contemplating these shadows for a 
few moments, he threw away the stump of his cigar, say- 
ing, Well, mine has the advantage over the others — it 
can move. We will see if it cannot come up to them." 

So saying, he started across the bridge, and did not 
halt until he had forced that limping image of himself 


56 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


to stand with its head resting upon the roof of his 
grandfather’s house — nor even then, for when he had 
gone so far, he went a few steps farther and rang the 
door-hell. The bell was an innovation — a knocker had 
been used in his grandfather’s day. 

Father Le Grand came to the door. 

*^Ah ! Mr. Foster, come in,” said the priest, cor- 
dially ; and he ushered Ernest into his library, which 
was entered from the lower end of the hall. As Ernest 
followed the priest he passed an open door on his right, 
and glancing through it he saw a very pretty room, 
well-lighted and having a cheerful and alluring aspect. 
He caught a glimpse of some paintings, and noticed an 
open piano. By the time he had taken possession of the 
chair offered him in the library, he had arrived at the 
conclusion that his grandfather’s house had an uncom- 
monly pleasant interior. 

I see you are yet somewhat lame,” said Father Le 
Grand, taking from the table a long stemmed pipe 
which he had lain down at the sound of the door-bell, 
and resumed his smoking. ‘^Iwas away when Agnes 
came for the crutch, or I should have myself gone to 
your assistance.” 

Ernest could not feel that the priest’s absence on that 
memorable occasion was in any sense a misfortune. 

I can assure you,” he said, ‘^that although prac- 
ticed in the art of relieving the suffering as you are, it 
is doubtful if you could have acted the part of the good 
Samaritan more successfully than Miss Gleauclaude did 
on that day.” 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


57 


As to acting any good part, I might equal or surpass 
my niece, but in being a true friend in need — priest as 
I am — I own that I can learn of lier.” 

^^Is Miss Gleauclaude at home?” asked Ernest, 
feeling that he might as well disclose without further 
delay, the object of his call, although he had no doubt 
that the priest understood it. 

She is at home, but just where, I cannot say. Do 
you wish to see her?” 

Yes, if I may,” replied Ernest. 

^^Make yourself comfortable in the parlor,” said 
Father Le Grand, pointing to the room into which 
Ernest had glanced on coming down the hall, ‘ ^ and I 
will look for her in the grove where perchance she may 
be enjoying the moonlight.” 

Accepting the priest’s invitation, Ernest crossed the 
hall and seated himself in the parlor. He found the 
room all that he had expected from the glimpse he got 
when he passed it before. A large lamp stood on the 
piano and threw a pleasant light around the room. 
Two or three oil paintings and as many steel engravings, 
all worth looking at, hung about the room, and he won- 
dered if the priest’s niece painted. He ventured to 
guess that she did, and that he was looking at some of 
her work. Having looked about him briefly, he was 
ready to believe that not another house in Mortonville, 
without warning to the inmates, would present such an 
air of readiness to receive callers. He was sure that he 
had not been expected. So far since he came into the 
house, he felt none but pleasant emotions. 


58 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


But now, suddenly, tlie prayer meeting came up be- 
fore him, and he thought of his father there, earnestly 
pleading with sinners to repent and turn to God. A 
train of thoughts then passed through his mind, which, 
perhaps should have come several days earlier. Where 
was he ? and what was he doing ? 

He remembered well his father’s sorrow at his repug- 
nance to entering the ministry, and now he looked upon 
his views and life in general. Was this new acquaint- 
anceship upon which he was entering, which had already 
begun, with Father Le Grand and his niece, to help to 
complete his estrangement from his father? He had 
for some time felt that his father took a too dark and 
pessimistic view of life, but was he -prepared to place 
himself on a friendly footing with the priest ? If he 
did, what would the result be? Would not his father 
denounce and perhaps disown him ? 

Strange, perplexing and discouraging fact, that these 
two men of God, laboring for the same Master and to 
the same end, had so little in common that to follow one 
was to antagonize the other. 

And was that the fact ? Was it impossible for him to 
maintain a dutiful and cordial relation with his father, 
and still meet Father Le Grand in a friendly way ? In 
his short acquaintance with the priest he had found him 
to be a cultured and agreeable gentleman. He knew 
him to be a man of good works, a strenuous and eloquent 
advocate of temperance, while he manifested a large 
charity in dealing with the indiscretions of youth and the 
weaknesses of human nature. 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


59 


As Ernest compared the two men, he wondered if 
his solemn manner, his cheerless disposition, and his 
disapproval of most of the common pleasures of the 
young, were a sure indication that his father was a bet- 
ter, a more righteous man than the genial priest. At this 
point he was awakened from his reverie by the noise of 
a swinging door. The sound of a light step quickly fol- 
lowed. Then the faint shadow of a woman flitted by 
him on the wall, and lifting his eyes he met those of the 
priest’s niece as she reached the doorway. 

As he rose to meet her and reply to her greeting, the 
first impression she had made had grown stronger. 
Her beauty seemed to him greater even than at 
their first encounter. In her presence his misgivings 
left him, and the voices within, which had until that 
moment been more or less loud in their remonstrance, 
became silent. Beautiful and good.*’ This was his 
decision although he stood hut at the threshold of their 
acquaintance. 

That conclusion reached, what ground was left for 
any doubt as to the propriety or prudence of his visit to 
the priest’s house ? None. He no longer asked him- 
self whence present events were drifting him. He never 
indulged in gloomy thoughts when there was any ex- 
cuse to he rid of them, and what an excuse was iiere. 
Time would tell how well he would hear up under dis- 
appointment and suffering, if it ever became his lot to 
endure them. But he was not in the habit of anticipat- 
ing coming ills. On the contrary, he was always looking 
out for pleasant things ; seized upon them at sight, and 


60 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


made the most of them. And if he had stopped to think, 
which he did not, could he have called up a pleasanter 
hour than he -was now spending? Doubtful. She sang 
for him as she had promised, and although he knew not 
one note of music, and could only judge of it by its 
effect upon himself, he felt as he listened that here was 
a being far more richly endowed with that Divine gift 
so powerful to move the heart than any one it had been 
his lot to know. And his senses, his soul, responded in 
appreciation and delight as never before. 

It was while Miss Gleauclaude’s fingers moved deftly 
along the keys of the piano, and while she sang, he 
knew not what, that the knowledge came like a reve- 
lation to him that he was passionately fond of 
music. 

And when she ceased and turned to him, saying : 

Is that enough? I am afraid I have sung too long,’’ 
he replied: 

‘^Enough for you, yes, but never enough for me. Ah, 
Miss Gleauclaude, you have made a mistake to-night un- 
less you intend to sing for me again at another time.” 

Her only reply was, “Do you sing, Mr. Foster?” 

“ Not a note.” 

“ Indeed ! you are as bad as my uncle then.” 

“ Is he very bad ?” 

. “ Yes, very, in music. But then he is a priest, and 
therefore again, very good.” 

“ Oh, I see ; and as I am not a priest, I suppose you 
think the badness in my case has no offset of good.” 

Miss Gleauclaude smiled as she replied, “ How can 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


61 


you suppose that ? Did I not compare you to a good 
man?” 

^‘Well, let us see,” said Ernest, his face assuming 
the expression of a scientific reasoner, while he empha- 
sized his words by bringing the point of his right fore 
finger down upon that of the left, let us analyze what 
you did say. ^^ow then, you remarked, that as I could 
not sing, I was as bad as — ” 

‘‘ As a good man,” put in Miss Gleauclaude. 

And he 'was very bad,” continued Ernest. 

But very good,” said the young lady. 

“I stand corrected. Miss Gleauclaude. You are 
right. You really paid me a very high compliment. I am 
not sure that you meant to do.it, but you did it all the 
same. Now if I should take this all in earnest, and 
stupidly imagine that you saw some good in me, or ex- 
pected something more of me than is demanded of com- 
mon mortals, I dare say that you would make haste to — 
to set me right, wouldn’t you ?” 

As he said this and leaned back in his chair and al- 
lowed his hands to drop upon the arms of it, there was 
nothing in his looks or manner that indicated an under- 
current of serious thought. On the contrary, a smile 
was on his lips as he waited for her reply, that peculiar 
smile which once seen, was not immediately for- 
gotten. 

Ernest had guessed right. Miss Gleauclaude was an 
artist. Was it the artist who noticed with pleasurable 
surprise that the young man sitting near her, when he 
smiled as now, had an exceedingly attractive face ? And 


62 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


in its effect, did that smile suggest to her the finishing 
touch of some great painter, who, by the stroke of a 
brush, so changes the image upon his canvas, that, from 
being only interesting it becomes fascinating? Perhaps 
so. But it was the woman whose pulses quickened the 
next moment, whose senses thrilled under an influence 
never felt before, and who discovered all at once that 
wisdom demanded that she act upon the defensive in 
her intercourse with this young gentleman. For — and 
was it not a weighty reason ? — was he not a Protestant 
heretic ? 

Ernest at length broke the silence. ‘ ^ Is it because 
the question is difficult to answer that you take so long ?’^ 
he asked. 

Pardon me if I failed to comprehend it,^’ she replied. 

Will you he kind enough to repeat it 

0, certainly. It's no trouble, and I am quite anxious 
for an answer.” And he repeated his question. 

And what if I meant it?” said she. 

Did you?” 

If I did not, you must think me a trifler. Perhaps I 
had in mind your benevolence. Charity, you know, is a 
noble virtue.” 

^^True, hut I haven’t paid the first installment yet.” 

^^But you will. You have promised, and you are a 
man of your word. Hence it is as good as done.” 

I have a mind to take you in earnest,” he said, 
speaking slowly and as if he meant it. And if I do so,” 
he continued, ‘ I shall consider myself henceforth as, 
in a certain sense, on trial or probation — a test of moral 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


63 


uprightness to which I assent, before one who doubtless 
has some standard, and a high one, of right living, by 
which I shall be judged. Perhaps I ought to confess 
that I have already been measured by other criterions, 
and I suppose, found wanting. But somehow my cen- 
sors have failed to reform me. I am still given over to 
a sort of perverse light-heartedness. I wickedly persist 
in being happy, and in thinking the world a delightful 
place and full of beautiful beings and objects. 

But I yet do sometimes yearn for more light in order 
that I may correct my shortcomings — my sins, whatever 
they may be. But when you tell me, as you have, that 
you have a little faith in me, why, I am led to feel that 
in spite of my wicked happiness, and my frivolity, my 
case is not altogether hopeless. Many things prompt me 
to appeal from those who have so often and constantly 
condemned me, to one who has not sat on the case. 

‘‘For one thing, I wish to know if a ‘ full bench’ 
will confirm the judgment of a part : again I wish to 
know whether those who take the law from the same 
book interpret it alike : again, I am desirous of obtain- 
ing the view of the new Court, of a former decision, 
‘that to be joyful is to be sinful, but the despondent 
are righteous.’ In short, I want more light. I am not 
a cynic, Miss Gleauclaude ; I am not aware that I am 
irreligious. To be sure, I am told that I am : but am I ? 
I do not mean to be : and no one could be more anxious 
to change his course than I shall be when I am once con- 
vinced that I ought to : and if the judgment of the 
other court is reaflSrmed, I shall doubtless be so 


64 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


convinced. In answer to all of which, what says the 
Court 

^‘This Court,” replied Miss Gleauclaude, quietly, 
doubts its jurisdiction in the case : and this person 
cannot understand how one could seriously make such 
a proposition as this to almost a total stranger. If 
meant to be taken only in fun, let it pass. But excuse 
me if your suggestion put such serious thoughts into 
my mind that I could not appreciate the honor.” 

May it please the Court,” began Ernest, and Miss 
Gleauclaude, casting a furtive glance at his face, saw 
that wonderful smile again : and her eyes dropped, ‘‘I 
admt^ the jurisdiction of the- Court So much is set- 
tled. As for the rest, I was never more serious in my 
life. To be sure, Miss Gleauclaude, I have not known 
you long. But a short acquaintance has convinced me 
that you are good, and that you desire others — all, to be 
so. Yow. will form an opinion of me — you will judge 
me, whether I ask it or not. Having as I do, a great 
respect for your good opinion, the thought that you will 
watch me — that I shall be on probation before you — will 
inspire me to do good, and refrain from evil. Do you 
believe me ? — Or will you persist in thinking that this 
is another attempt at being fuuny ?” 

0, yes, — I believe you,” said the young lady with 
something like a sigh, but — what am I to do with you? ’ 
‘‘Isn’t there a trap door in the floor here somewhere, 
with a secret spring ? Inveigle me on to it — press the 
spring, and presto, you are rid of me,” said Ernest. 

Miss Gleauclaude laughingly remarked that after all 
he was not destitute of humor. 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


65 


But,” she continued, and she put on a very solemn 
expression, there is no trap door. There is only a 
trap, and I have myself fallen into that. For, having 
said you were good, you would now force me to make 
you so.” 

A concise and masterly opinion from the Court,’’ 
cried Ernest. ‘‘I infer that your honor looks with 
favor upon my proposition — shall I say, assents to 
it ?” 

^‘ No, I must decline to enter into such an extraor- 
dinary arrangement as you have suggested. You will 
agree with me when you have thought the matter over. 
But do not let this answer mislead you. If you think I 
do not care whether you go right or wrong, you are mis- 
taken. I do care. I would much prefer to have you 
live a noble — a Christian life than a sinful one. If you 
wish it I will pray for you. Think of me as doing 
it, if that will help you. Monsieur.” (Ernest felt that 
she used this word again for the purpose of impressing 
on his mind that they were yet strangers to each other.) 
^^If we ever become well acquainted, there would be no 
impropriety in a comparison of views : and perhaps 
mutual benefit would be the result.” 

‘^You very politely,” said he, give me ‘leave to 
withdraw,’ as the Great and General Court says to 
unwelcome petitioners. Very well, I shall not deny 
that your decision is probably both justifiable and wise. 
However, I am neither sorry that I asked what I did, 
nor mortified at your refusal to grant it. I have no 
intention of becoming desperate, and growing worse than 


66 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


I am. I even think of doing better, aided as I shall be 
by your prayer. 

^^And, Mademoiselle, you have encouraged me to 
hope that we shall some day reach such a stage of 
mutual confidence that we shall talk freely together 
upon the great theme of life, telling to each other 
frankly our true thoughts — our deei)est and most sol- 
emn thoughts regarding it.” 

Saying which, Ernest at once arose and took his 
leave. 


V. 

When Ernest reached home he found his father and 
mother in the sitting-room awaiting him. A glance at 
their faces, and he was convinced that he had been the 
subject of their conversation, and was without doubt 
still the object of their thoughts. Perhaps he felt some 
compunction which helped him not only to guess what 
their thoughts probably were, but to reason out what 
they must necessarily be. 

He took a seat, and, at a loss for anything to say, 
waited in expectancy. 

After a few moments, during which no one spoke, his 
fatlier said, ‘‘ You are later than usual, Ernest.’^ 

Yes, a little : but yet, not very late, father. It is 
not quite ten.” 

Something detained you at the mill ? Some break 
down ?” 

0, no sir. T haveiPt been to the mill since tea.” 

‘^Nothing important kept you away from the prayer 
meeting ?” 

Well, I suppose I could have postponed the busi- 
ness, and attended the meeting.” 

If you will listen to me, Ernest, I would like to talk 
with you a few moments upon a matter that is of the 
greatest, the most vital importance, to — you. A mat- 


68 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


ter about which I am constantly anxious — will you hear 
me 

Did I ever refuse to listen to you, father 

“No: but you have not taken heed to what I have 
said.” 

“If I have not always obeyed your injunctions to the 
letter, father, possibly in a certain sense I have come 
nearer to obedience than you are aware of.” 

“Ernest, when will your eyes be opened ? — your con- 
science be convicted of sin ? You still persist by false 
reasoning in making yourself better than you are.” 

“ Father, what you say troubles me exceedingly. 
Not because I fear that it may be true of me — for in my 
heart I cannot think so : but it pains me beyond expres- 
sion to think that so far from being any comfort to you, 
I cause you constant anxiety and sorrow.” 

“You have no fears for yourself y then ?” replied his 
father. “You have no doubt that the sinful life you 
are living will end well. You are in the main, happy 
now : and you look into the future, and towards eter- 
nity with complacency. But one thing mars your 
happiness. You are anxious — not about yourself — not 
in the least: but you are troubled for your father —to 
think that he will take it so much to heart : that he is 
so peculiarly constituted that he spends nights without 
sleep, and days in prayer, all because of a needless solici- 
tude for his son, whom he — for some unaccountable rea- 
son — considers a lost sinner. Is not that a correct de- 
scription of your feelings, Ernest ?” 

“ No, it is an exaggeration. And now it seems to me 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


69 


tlie time has come when we should understand each 
other better, or rather when you should understand me 
better. I am now a man, and although your son, I must 
say frankly that I will not be driven nor frightened into 
taking any step which my reason does not commend 
nor my conscience demand — not even if you command 
me to do it. I know you will think me un filial 
and perverse : and even something much worse. I 
cannot help it : and it will be but a continuation of the 
misjudgment which I have suffered at your hands for 
years. 

I will not deny that your views of what my Chris- 
tian duty is, may be correct : although never once have 
you aimed to convince me of it by any fair and candid 
argument — by talking with me as one reasonable man 
talks to another. You have assumed too much in regard 
to me ; you have never questioned me that you might 
learn what my conceptions of duty, my hopes and pur- 
poses were. You have condemned me without hearing 
me. Until this moment I have never refused to listen 
to you. I have listened, although you denied me the 
right of reply, saying that I only wanted to put off the 
day of repentance — that I only desired to procrastinate 
and gain a little longer allowance of time for sinful pleas- 
ure. Father, such has been your manner of approach- 
ing me that you labored in vain to touch a responsive 
chord in my heart : and if this heart of mine has not 
been hardened by the contact, it is because God has been 
more merciful to me than you have been. If it be your 
purpose now, or at any future time, to talk to me as you 


70 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


have often done, I tell you it will be useless, or worse 
than useless.” 

‘‘Ernest, do you realize what you have said? — that 
you are forbidding your own father to put forth any 
effort to save you ? You are, as you intimate, your own 
man : and if you decline to listen to reason, I cannot 
compel you — I cai] only pray for you : but will God hear 
me in behalf of such a froward son ?” said the minister; 
and in anguish of mind he leaned forward and buried 
his face in his hands. 

“ You still misunderstand me,” continued Ernest. “ I 
am not aware that I ever declined to listen to reason. I 
do not now decline. When yon come to me in the spirit 
of the words ‘ Come, let us reason together,’ I 
shall be glad to meet you half way.” 

“ Do you mean,” replied Mr. Foster in a severe tone, 
“that you will consent to hear me on the question 
of your need of Christ only when I come to you 
and ask that we may enter into an endless discus- 
sion and con? Have you ceased to vacillate only 
to settle down to the infidel’s tactics of first re- 
quiring proof of the inspiration of the Scriptures, the 
existence and the need of Christ: and then brushins: 
aside all the evidence submitted, as contrary to reason 
and unworthy of acceptance of free thinking and 
intelligent minds ?” 

“ I will answer you by asking if you think I am an 
infidel ?” replied Ernest. 

“I confess with sorrow, Ernest, that I do not know 
where you stand.” 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


71 


Forgive me if I do you injustice, but it seems to 
me that you have now admitted that you are Uindly 
impugning the motives of your son.” 

Would God!” exclaimed the minister, ‘‘that my 
fears for you were altogether groundless. But your 
life — your life ! How can it be else than hateful in the 
sight of God ?” 

“And yet it is a happy one, father. I have found 
so much in life that was pleasant, that I have sometimes 
thought that God had given me a disposition, or 
capacity, to enjoy more than the average of mankind • 
and I have been grateful to Him for it. For it seemed 
to me that in addition to the other manifold blessings 
He had bestowed upon me. He had placed me under 
special obligation to love Him, by this gift which 
enables me to find life more endurable than many do. 
And you think He hates me ? With all the contrary so 
plainly before me, I cannot — I will not believe it.” 

“ Ernest, I beseech you. I warn you, not to encour- 
age yourself by this false hope,” cried his father, rising 
and beginning to walk the fioor. 

“I must answer as I feel,” said Ernest, also rising, 
“ and if in what T say I seem to show filial disrespect, 
I do not mean it. I do not question the sincerity 
with which you utter this solemn warning. But against 
what are you unconsciously warning me ? I will tell 
you. Against trusting that emotion of my heart I 
call love to God, which I have ever felt since I first began 
to read His word and His works intelligently : and 
against that faith which is in me that He loves me. If 


72 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


I speak the truth, then you, a father and a minister of 
the Gospel, have made the astounding attempt to 
stifle — to destroy that love and that faith of your son : 
and God in mercy to me — and to you as well, has de- 
creed that your misguided efforts shall fail.’’ 

Mr. Foster sank into his chair before Ernest closed, 
and did not reply to the latter’s earnest words. 

After standing in silence for a moment, Ernest ut- 
tered a ^^good night” — for both his parents, then 
affectionately kissed his mother, and retired to his room. 

Soon after the minister arose, and saying, Don’t 
wait for me, Mary,” and went to his study and shut 
himself in. 

Mr. Foster was a man who usually had the last word 
himself. He could have recalled — had he cared to think 
it over — but two instances when he had not. One was 
in a discussion with his wife about his son, and the 
other in the talk he had just had with his son. How he 
happened to fail in the first instance has been sufficiently 
explained. There were good reasons for it. So now 
there were the best of reasons why he became silent, and 
did not reply to Ernest’s final words. 

While his son had — as it seemed to him — made the 
most extraordinary claim ever put forth by an unregen- 
erate sinner, and had followed it with an accusation as 
inexplicable as it was monstrous, he had spoken with 
such earnestness and apparent sincerity as to leave no 
doubt that he believed what he had said. 

It was the sincerity of his son, and the increasing 
tenacity with which he clung to the hope he had 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


73 


expressed that had finally silenced the minister. Never 
in all his ministry had he met with one so deluded by a 
misconception of God’s will and promises as Ernest 
was. It was a peculiar and perplexing case, and he was 
not quite prepared to go on with it. He desired to 
spend some time in prayer and meditation before labor- 
ing farther with his son. And although the hour was 
late, he would not close his eyes in sleep until he had 
satisfied that desire. 

The moment he had shut himself into his study he 
knelt in prayer, offering a long and silent petition from 
the very depths of his he^rt for his son, and for wis- 
dom and guidance that he might bring that erring son 
to Christ. 

It was past midnight when he arose from his knees 
and sat down to think. He said to himself in the out- 
set of his deliberations that if he failed of being the 
instrument of bringing Ernest to a reconciliation 
with God, then his ministry would have been almost 
in vain, and would hardly justify itself. What ! was 
Ernest to be lost when his father and grandfather had 
aimed to be true servants and ministers of God ? 

Ernest had been under their teaching, had been a 
witness of their life, and must have inherited some- 
thing of their natures. If Ernest was lost, what could 
he, his father, answer, when the Great Judge con- 
fronted him with that fact at that great and terrible 
day ? Could he vindicate himself ? No, he could not. 
He must then prevail with his son and win him to 
Christ. Then came the question, how could he reach 



74 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


him ? Could he do more than he had done ? In the 
same direction — no. Should he repeat then his efforts 
with Ernest ? That was forbidden — Ernest would not 
listen to him ; had he not said so ? 

In this exigency — with some misgivings, and a feel- 
ing that he was about to suffer indignity and authority 
— he settled upon a plan to follow in his future labors 
with his son. It was a plan somewhat at variance with 
the course he had been pursuing, but it was the only 
one that suggested itself to his mind which afforded any 
encouragement of success. And when he had decided 
to adopt it, he retired to rest. 


VI. 

The second morning after his call at Father Le 
Grand’s, as Ernest entered the office, Major Copeland, 
the book-keeper, handed him an envelope, with the 
remark : 

One of Beaubien’s boys left this note for you this 
morning. Looks like a woman’s writing — I should say.” 

Ernest took the letter, glanced at the writing on the 
envelope and quietly said, as he went to his desk : 

I shall know in a moment. Major, and — ” 

And will tell me, ” added the Major. 

‘‘I was about to say — and — you may — guess — if you 
can,” replied Ernest, at the same time reading the 
note. 

Mrs. Beaubien writes an elegant hand, if it is” — be- 
gan the book-keeper, when Ernest interrupted him 
with — 

Please keep quiet. Major ; this is an important com- 
munication. ” 

Ah ! is it indeed ?” cried the Major, ‘‘ I am all 
attention. Read a little louder, please.” 

‘‘Is Beaubien in debt,” asked Ernest, after he had 
read the note. 

“ Yes,” answered the book-keeper. 

“ Well, give him an order on the store for ten dol- 


76 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


lars, and — charge it to me/^ said Ernest, arising and 
leaving the office. 

‘‘Whew! — and charge it to MmV’ exclaimed the 
Major, after the superintendent had disappeared. All 
right, but strange — very.’’ 

Had any one observed the superintendent particularly 
that morning as he visited the various departments of 
the mills, that person would have noticed that he was 
uncommonly cheerful. Perhaps it was the charitable 
act with which he had begun the day that made him so. 
Certainly his conscience must have commended his be- 
nevolence : and the approbation of conscience is es- 
sential to happiness. 

It was, however, something in addition to a satisfied 
conscience that accounted for his buoyancy of spirits 
that morning. And when, in a remote corner of the 
mill, he covertly took from his pocket the delicate note, 
and reread it slowly, his manner, his looks, and every 
expression of his connected with the act, showed plainly 
enough that the exquisite missive was of itself a pleas- 
ure. 

And now, he had already proved, as he thought, the 
truth of the saying, “ That it is better to give than to 
receive.” He found it so at any rate. And with the 
enthusiasm of a new convert, he longed for other and 
continued demands upon his charity. There is little 
doubt that he would have exhausted his income, had 
occasion required. It could scarcely be claimed that 
moral consideration alone prompted this readiness to 
give. 


/ 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


77 


It is even to be feared that to the circumstances at- 
tending the act, more than to the act itself, Ernest 
owed the pleasure he experienced in his benevolence. 
He had liad some doubts that Miss Gleauclaude really 
intended to hold him to his promise. But here was her 
note- — or draft, rather, as it pleased him to consider it. 
And he bad honored it, and was ready for the next. 

What an unexpected and agreeable copartnership he 
had entered into ! Who would — or could — refuse to 
give of his substance to aid the pDor, when the direction 
and manner of his donations were designated by a partner 
so young and so beautiful ? 

Possibly some would look upon this alms-giving as 
disinterested. Perhaps others would even term it mer- 
cenary. For Ernest, although he had admitted that he 
had been paid, still expected a return for it. Miss 
Gleauclaude would sing for him ; she would thank him, 
and her beautiful eyes, as she related in detail the in- 
cidents that followed the reception of his gifts, would 
express her appreciation of his deed. And all this 
would pay him a thousand-fold. 

And yet, there is another view of the young man’s 
act, thought and motives Avhich, in justice to him, 
should be considered. The Beaubiens were very needy, 
and there were many in the family. The store order 
would help them greatly. That order came from Er- 
nest ; and whoever or whatever prompted it, Tie gave it, 
and gave it — even if secondarily — to help the Beaubiens 
So much, at least, must be placed to his credit. 

And then, there had been, ever since his second meet- 


78 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


ino with Agnes Gleauclaude, a sort of moral purpose — 
such as it was — underlying every important act of his. 
He believed her to be as good as she was beautiful. And 
as he persisted in thinking himself on probation before 
her, he found himself often deliberating as to what 
course to pursue in matters having a moral bearing, 
that came up to be acted upon. And he always decided 
upon that course which he believed would commend it- 
self to her ; and which, as he felt, must therefore be 
right. For by intuition — or some other instantaneous 
process, if there is any other — he had, on a very brief 
acquaintance, formed the highest opinion of her Judg- 
ment as to what was pure and noble. 

If owing to favorable conditions, he found it easy 
and pleasant to do good, was he not simply rtiore fortu- 
nate than the majority tf mankind ? — and was he not to 
be congratulated rather than criticised ? 

Had Mr. Foster learned that Ernest looked to a 
Catholic for moral inspiration, he would have been filled 
with dismay. And Ernest’s grandfather — what would 
he have thought ? He would have felt that his grand- 
son was doomed — lost beyond all hope of recovery. 

But no troublesome thought came to Ernest as he 
stood with her letter in his hand. To him, Agnes 
Gleauclaude was one of those beautiful women described 
in romances, or seen in dreams, but rarely met in real 
life. And he ascribed to her a strength of character 
not always found in conjunction with flaxen hair and 
blue eyes. 

And the more he thought of the fact that she was a 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


Y9 


foreigner, and a Catholic, the more interesting slie be- 
came to him. She spoke and wrote his native tongue 
almost as well as her own. Some slight peculiarities 
in pronunciation or accent, and the use of a wrong 
word now and then, only added to the charm of her 
speech. He knew but little — by personal knowledge — 
of what is termed society,^’ and had so rarely come in 
contact with any of that highly favored class — ^young 
ladies of culture — that it is not surprising that he looked 
upon Miss Gleauclaude^s accomplishments as quite 
remarkable. 

And as to her religion ? He cared as little for the 
dogmas of the Catholic church as for those of other 
churches. He believed there had been, and were now, 
as noble men and women — as great saints — in that as in 
any church. In one thing he felt quite sure that the 
policy of the Catholic church was wiser than that of 
some Protestant churches — and especially the Methodist; 
which really he knew more than any other. And that 
was the policy of sanctioning harmless amusements, 
like, for instance, dancing and card playing — two prac- 
tices condemned as sins by Methodist church members, 
It seemed to him that his father and all who believed 
with him, overlooked the fact that God had himself 
given to mankind their desires for pleasure and enter- 
tainment. Were these desires evil propensities to be 
conquered ? Doubtless his father thought so. For he 
was constantly speaking of them as the longing of the 
‘^natural heart,” which was ‘^at enmity with God.” 
JJrnest contrasted these views with the practice of the 


80 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


Catholic church, which instead of forbidding innocent 
pleasure, simply aimed at keeping the participants within 
wholesome limits ; and he thought the Catholic idea 
much more reasonable than the other. 

For Sister Walcott he felt the deepest respect, even 
veneration. But, somehow, as good as she was, he had 
never felt inclined to accept the invitation she some- 
times urged upon the young people at meetings to 

walk with us in the straight and narrow way,” for he 
was positive that Sister Walcott’s straight and narrow 
way led by nothing more cheering to the young than 
prayer meetings, self-denials, clouds and tears. He 
would not deny that Sister Walcott was a saint. He 
believed she was. But, if the majority of the people 
he knew were like her, and held her rigid opinions, and 
lived her ascetic life, he presumed he should get into a 
condition of mind something like her own when she de- 
clared — as she occasionally did — that she was ready to 
depart.” 

Was Saint Agnes about to accomplish what Sister 
Walcott had been unable to do ? If so, was it because 
of her youth and beauty ? — and did these make the 

way ” in which she led seem less straight and narrow ? 
These questions furnish food for reflection. They hint at 
a possible transfer of a certain responsibility from old 
friends of Ernest to a new one. And if the sequel 
should show that the graces of person and mind with 
which the Creator had endowed the niece of the priest, 
were such that she was the only being in the world for 
whom this young man would change liis life md his 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


81 


faith — how great was her responsibility, and how great 
also that of her religious advisers ! If she realized that 
responsibility, and her religious nature were as deep, and 
her force of character as great, as Ernest apprehended, 
would she be content until she had won this Protestant 
heretic over to the true faith ? 

How many of the possibilities or probabilities that 
loomed in ErnesPs pathway would develop into facts, 
and how many prove as unreal as a mirage, time alone 
would tell. As to one contingency, it would decide that 
very soon — ^indeed, it was as good as decided already. 

Kev. Charles Foster, look well to your son ! Has no 
one — no bird, nor angel, warned you of his danger, as 
you would call it ? No, — nor will. For no one knows 
it. And what could you do, if warned ? Nothing. 
He would not listen to you. He feels that you never 
took him into your confidence, and you are the last 
person in the world whom he would take into his. But 
this, painful fact need not have been asserted, for he 
is not aware that there is anything to confide to any 
one. Life, always pleasant, shall be pleasanter than 
ever to-day to him. But he does not ask himself 
why ? — and will it be the same to-morrow — in a week — 
in a year ? He simply gives himself up to a dream all 
day long — a pleasant dream in which he realizes noth- 
ing. If the question — ‘‘ She may go and not return — what 
then should thrust itself into his consciousness, it is 
possible there might he an awakening, and he would be 
forced to see the result towards which influences irresist- 
ible and sweet were hurrying him. 


82 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


But no question of such a startling nature aroused 
him from his delightful and purposeless dream, and 
caused him to take notice of his whereabouts. Possibly 
he was a witness to the truth of the saying — ‘‘ There 
are none so blind as those who will not see.” 

If in thought, he crossed the Shallow a hundred 
times before the sun went down — which he certainly 
did ; and in imagination pictured to himself the priest’s 
niece — now seated at the piano, or working at her easel, 
or sketching beneath the tall maples, or strolling on the 
hillside near the house, where the fragrant arbutus 
came early and in abundance — and dwelt with increas- 
ing interest and admiration on each and every image of 
her that memory and imagination could bring before 
him — if, in short, that day and during the days to come, 
his thoughts were oftener and longer on her side of the 
Shallow than on his — his blindness must be of the will- 
ful kind, or he could scarcely fail to see that a certain 
finality was not simply inevitable, and near at hand, but 
that it had already come : and that he was held fast in 
the meshes of Love. 

Too late for warning — quite too late, Kev. Charles 
Foster. Indeed it w’ould be difficult to tell just when it 
should have been done. For there is reason to believe 
that something in the breast of your son — was it his 
heart ? — as he went down before the blue eyes of Saint 
Agnes ” that April afternoon, uttered to itself those very 
words — Too late for warning.” 


VIL 

It is Monday afternoon of the third week in May. 
The revival has now been in progress two weeks. 

The reader is invited to look in upon Mi*. Foster for a 
few moments as he sits in his study — that favorite 
rallying ground, where he has so many times planned 
the course to be followed, and put on ‘‘the whole 
armor” preparatory to engaging in moral warfare. 
Here, as the reader remembers, the revival was decided 
upon, and here the minister is now debating how long 
it shall be continued. It has not been a failure — not by 
any means — for ten persons have come forward for 
prayers, and are every night relating their experience at 
the meetings. 

Ten souls saved ! Is that a little thing ? If one soul 
had been saved, which otherwise would have been lost, 
let no one say that the revival had been a failure. “ Oh, 
no, not a failure,” remarks the Universalist reader. 
“ We don’t say that, because doubtless the morals of the 
new converts were raised. But revivals are not instru- 
mental to salvation, for all men are to be saved, regard- 
less of such efiorts.” 

“ Only ten saved ?” asks some other liberal Christian 
reader. “ All the others then who would not assent to 
the tenets of this exclusive and bigoted church, were 


84 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


lost. Think of that ! The probability is that this cler- 
gyman was refusing admission to scores of good Chris- 
tians.” 

Of course, to readers of such ‘Miberal” views the re- 
vival at Mortonville would seem inconsequential. But 
to Mr. Foster with Ms belief, how vast and incalculable 
the good which was to follow from it 

And yet he did not appear to be enjoying the fruit of 
his self-denying and earnest Christian labor. He looked 
pale, worried — almost disheartened. 

He had never been a hap})y man. Was he never to be ? 
Had his Master destined him to be, like himself, ‘^A 
man of sorrows ” only ? 

He was not satisfied with what he had accomplished, 
although it was mucli. But he was nearly worn out. 
He felt that he was on the verge of nervous prostration, 
yet could he have the heart to stop now when so many 
— so very many of the young people in Mortonville were 
still indifferent — traveling down the broad road to de- 
struction ? 

He called to mind a remark made by a brother clergy- 
man from an adjoining town, whom he had met at con- 
ference, that he attributed the lack of spirituality 
among the people of Mortonville and all over the town, 
to their fondness for dancing — which sinful amusement, 
he had been informed, was indulged in to an alarming 
degree. And he was less inclined now to question the 
brother’s remark than he was at the time. 

There had been a ball since the meetings began — the 
one he had warned the young people against. Another 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


85 


was in preparation — or what was the same thing, or worse, 
a Catholic picnic was to take place the coming Satur- 
day, and to be held in the maple grove that surrounded 
Father Le Grrand’s house. These Catholic entertain- 
ments were occasions of such pleasure to the young peo- 
ple, and all were made so welcome- that he knew many 
of those he looked upon as his people would be there. 
And these things were so distracting, and so wicked at 
such a time as this ! 

Perhaps some reader again interrupts to exclaim — 
‘‘Poor man: how austere! how absurd! These were 
simply young people^s meetings : and at least the young 
must have seasons of pleasure — of gayety.’^ 

What ! must have times of gayety ? — absolute gayety ? 
How such a declaration would have sounded in the ears 
of Mr. Foster ! He had searched very carefully the Bible 
through to find any evidence that the Saviour of man- 
kind ever smiled, and he had found none. The Old 
Testament foretold tliat he was to be a man of sorrows, 
and finally to be slain upon the cruel tree. The New 
Testament recorded the fulfilment of that prophecy. 
When he considered why the Son of man had thus suf- 
fered, and that notwithstanding what he had endured, 
probably half to twc-thirds of all mankind W(»uld be 
lost, it made him shudder to hear the word “gayety” 
mentioned. And as to young people’s meetings — those 
for prayer and conference were the only kind he thought 
proper or necessary. 

Never at any time inclined to look with favor upon 
the sports of the young, the minister had lately shown 


86 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


a tendency to condemn every act of both old and young 
that was not of a positively religious character. 

He felt that there never was a time when the work 
which these protracted meetings were calculated to do, 
was more needed in Mortonville than now. But there 
must be a head ; and he, the head, was limited in his 
powers of endurance. After long and earnest thought, 
he decided to bring the number of meetings down to 
two a week. 

Having settled that matter as he felt obliged to settle 
it, owing to the weakness of the flesh, he turned his 
thouglits to another of equal, or greater importance ; one 
which was of more personal nature, and which had a 
more vital interest to him at this time than anything 
else. If the conversion of sinners was important, the 
conversion and salvation of his own son was the most 
pressing necessity at hand. 

The revival meetings were not reaching Ernest — he 
bad attended none of them. But somehow, some- 
thing must reach him,” he exclaimed almost in despera- 
tion, rising and beginning to pace the floor. Once 
more he considered the plan he had formed that night 
after his talk with Ernest, and which when examined 
the following day, seemed to carry with it such risk to 
himself, that he had hesitated to put it into practice. 

“ God help me, and show me how to save my son !’' 
he cried, as he continued to walk back and forth, with- 
out lifting his eyes from the carpet. Suddenly, and 
without knowing why, he paused in front of a picture 
hanging on the wall, and raising his eyes, looked at it 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


87 


for a long time. It was a portrait of a lovely little girl 
— his only daughter — who had died in her tenth year. 
So many years had pasjed since her death, that he had 
almost forgotten he once had a little girl. But he re- 
members now — and for some reason, how vividly he re- 
calls her sickness, her death, and all the harrowing cir- 
cumstances attending them ! 

He stands before the picture until he is weary, and 
then draws up a chair and seats himself where he can 
continue to gaze upon it. Yes, he remembers now. 
Her disease was diphtheria. He remembers how he 
loved her, and how her last intelligible words, in which 
she told him that she was to die, pierced his soul. 

Again he feels the agony of that last hour when he 
had stood beside her bed and witnessed the convulsions 
that marked the last stages of the disease. Again, 
broken-hearted, he kneels beside her body, straightened 
and rigid, as death had left it. 

And the weeks and months that followed — how terri- 
ble the loneliness and desolation. He recalls it all. He 
does not forget what he said to his wife after they had 
buried their idol — and he had spoken as he felt — that if 
he could bring back their little girl by becoming a slave, 
or by having his eyes put out, or his hands cut off — if 
it would be as well for the child, how gladly would he 
submit to these physical misfortunes to take the pain 
from his heart. 

But what does this mean ? — The minister suddenly 
throws himself upon the floor, and covering his faca 
with his hands, leans over upon his chair. A groan es- 


88 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


capes him, and tears follow — the first in many years. 
Was his love so great that after a lapse of twenty-two 
years his heart was again overwhelmed with grief at the 
inrushing of so many sad memories, associated with his 
loss ? This does not altogether nor mainly account for 
the paroxysm which had seized him. 

True he had, as not before in years, just lavished the 
most tender and affectionate thoughts upon the sweet 
child who had been taken from him. But it was the 
sudden i3erception of the startling fact that he did not 
know how dear she was to him until she was dead, and 
the thoughts which followed this discovery, that over- 
came him. He had never told her, nor shown it to her 
— unless his manifestation of grief at her dying bed told 
it as plainly as words could have done. How earnestly 
he hoped she had understood him at the last. For he 
did love her — Oh, how much ! 

In this remorseful review of the past, there was as- 
sociated in his mind with the image of his daughter, 
that of a chubby, fair-haired baby boy. There could be 
no thought of her that did not take him in — this little 
brother. For he was a perpetual delight to his sister, 
and she would deny herself everything for him. She 
died when little ‘^Erney*’ was scarcely two years old. 
Among the many and touching incidents with which 
memory now crowds the melting heart of the father, 
one, especially moves him. The little brother had on 
one occasion, raised his hand to strike his sister. There 
^was a brief and gentle remonstrance from her — a word 
and a look — and the magic power of the sister’s love ap- 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


89 


pealing to h‘m to spare, subdued his young anger, and 
brought him, in tears into her arms. 

The minister arose. His face was stained with tears, 
but the hopelessness of an hour before had gone from it. 
He stood again before the portrait. 

‘‘Though dead, you still speak to me,” he said. 
“God through you — His angel — has shown me how to 
deal with your brother. It was your way, has been your 
mother’s way, and shall be mine. Love shall win him. 
I was partly decided before, but 1 did not know that I 
possessed this love for him which I now feel. Now I 
know — now I feel it. I do not think of risks now — 
God will take care of that. He shows me my love to 
my son, and demands that it be as untlioughtful of self 
as yours was — I thank Him that Ernest lives, and that 
I may yet show him what his father’s love is.” He 
clasps his hands and looks pleadingly at the picture, is 
silent a moment, and then cries out to it : 

“ 0, May ! my angel child ! Come to us often ! For- 
give your poor blind father: and lead us — you can see 
so much better than we — lead us — mother, brother and 
father, home to God.’” 

As the time drew near when Ernest would come from 
the mills, his feelings were like those of a father who 
awaits the arrival of a long-lost son. And had not his 
son been lost ? — and was he not now found ? Im- 
patient to see Ernest as never before in his life, though 
but a few hours since he parted from him, the minister 
watched for his coming. At length he is rewarded. 
“ He is coming,” he cries, at sight of him. 


90 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


Ah, my boy ! you will find me changed ! I will be 
patient with you ! you shall be won ! you shall be 
saved ! For love — your father’s love envelops you, and 
love is resistless !’^ 

Love resistless ? Are you sure, reverend sir, that you 
know what you are saying ? — and is it true ? For if it 
is, it will be interesting to see how well you will be 
able to solve the difficult problem of turning back the 
current of your son^s affections, which, impelled by this 
same ^‘resistless” force, is directed towards one who 
holds religious tenets that you have heretofore contem- 
plated with holy horror. 


VIII. 

The Catholics had decided to hold a picnic on Satur- 
day, as soon as they learned that the mills would be 
stopped on that day for repairs on the canal. A better 
place for it could scarcely be imagined than the maple 
grove which, surrounding the priest’s dwelling, ran 
westward for some distance on a gentle rise and then 
abruptly ascended the mountain side. The foliage of 
the great trees afforded abundant protection from the 
sun. It was a romantic, roomy and grand retreat. A 
place that on a pleasant summer day was inviting to 
those of all ages and dispositions. Everyone could 
be accommodated here. Fifty pairs of lovers would 
find little trouble in discovering as many secluded spots 
where they could murmur their sweet hyperboles, and 
bestow their expressive glances unheard and unseen 
by their cold and matter-of-fact elders, or that still more 
trying part of humanity — the children. Here and there 
a huge rock with rectangular sides, and a surface large 
and level enough to afford comfortable room for a 
lunch party of a dozen or more, lifted its ponderous 
and weighty mass — five, ten, and even twenty feet 
in the air. From the branches of some of the tallest 
trees a swing could be put up with a drop of forty feet. 
There was something in the slow and long sweeping 


92 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


vibrations of this colossal pendulum — a sort of ‘^sweet- 
ness long drawn out’^ — so fascinating to the children, 
that the grounds around the swing were the first to be 
occupied and the last to be deserted on any picnic day. 

It would almost seem as if Nature had designed the 
place for pleasure parties, so well had she supplied 
it with things that contribute to enjoyment. Where 
the steep declivity of the mountain met the more gentle 
slope of the grove, a brook plunged into a deep ravine, 
forming a very pretty cascade, and thence went on a 
sinuous course to the Shallow. 

The sylvan nook surrounding tliis cascade was a spot 
of exceptional beauty. Tlie lover of the picturesque 
would find his chief delight of a day’s outing in this 
noble forest in sitting on one of the banks of this ravine 
and watching the white sheet of water as it plunged 
down the precipice, and in listening to its roar. 

For more than thirty years the people of Mortonvile 
had assembled in “Elder Foster’s grove” on every fair 
Fourth of July to honor the day and to picnic. The 
children would meet in the morning at the church, 
and under the leadership of the Sabbath-School superin- 
tendent, and preceded — in early days, by a fife and drum, 
and later by Mortonville’s brass band — march to the 
ground. Immediately after arriving, an hour or two 
would be spent in speech-making : a few salutes were 
then fired, and after that the people gave themselves up 
to such pleasures as suited them. Whether this custom 
was to be changed now that the grove had changed 
hands, remained to be seen. 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


93 


For several evenings preceding the day of the picnic, 
the young men of the Catholic Society had been at work 
constructing something with a large amount of timber 
and boards which they had borrowed from the mill 
owner. And when the sun of that much longed-for 
Saturday arose clear, ushering in a perfect day, its first 
rays fell upon a structure standing in the ancient grove 
that would have overcome the late Elder Foster with 
consternation had he been alive. It was a broad and 
substantial platform for dancing. 

If ill many things the Catholics were to amuse them- 
selves in a different manner than their Protestant 
predecessors had done, they were not to depart entirely 
from former rules and customs. Father Le Grand was 
a well-known temperance reformer, and this picnic, 
like all that had gone before it, was to be a strictly tem- 
perance gathering. That being the case, how could 
they have done better than engage Lem Baker for 
^Memonade man,” as the children called him, who had 
for a quarter of a century mixed the regulation drinks 
for Pi'otestants at their annual celebrations on this 
ground ? And Lem had agreed to attend to the 
marter.” 

When some one wishing to joke with him a little 
about the matter asked him if he didn’t think the 
Catholics would want a ‘‘ stick ” in their lemonade, he 
replied : 

No mor’n the other folkses, I gess. They’s a good 
many, I reckon, outer all sexes uv religion that ef the 
truth was known, like it a leetle better ’ith the stick. 


94: 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


But them folkses, like you and me, make their^n to 
hum/’ 

As early as nine o’clock Saturday morning, one im- 
mense swing and several small ones were in operation. 
Many children were already on the ground, and the 
older people were beginning to arrive rapidly. Some 
vehicles were approaching the grove. Among them was 
an express wagon loaded with lemons, ice, tubs, pails, 
and drinking utensils. Back of this trudged Lem 
Baker, bearing a familiar wooden stick, having a large 
knob on the end of it. This suggestive article, which 
in length was about the same as a ball club, and but 
little, if any lighter, he carried over his shoulder. 

No sooner had the wagon of lemonade in embryo ar- 
rived at Lem’s ‘^old stand,” than a troop of children 
surrounded it and began to cry : 

Lem ! gimme some lem’nade ! M’sier B’ker ! give 
me some le-mo?i-ade ! 0, M’sier Lem ! moi give some 
dat — wat you call him ! \Q-moY\-ivater, don’t 
it ?” 

Ge-et eout ! — clear — out the way ! will ye ? I shan’t 
git this here drink ready for an hour yit !” yelled Lem, 
swinging his baton around over the heads of the young- 
sters, at which they all lied back to their swings. 

The day bid fair to be an unusually warm one for 
May, and Lem would be likely to discover a great de- 
mand for the beverage he was to prepare, and which 
was always supplied free of charge. 

At lunch time, which was at twelve o’clock, the de- 
mand began, and Lem had two barrels full from which 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


95 


he filled the pitchers and glasses as fast as they were 
presented, and that was very fast. 

‘‘A good healthy drink — almost as good as water,” 
said Father Le Grand, presenting a glass to be filled. 

Wa’al now ’tis. Mister Grand. It’s a good innercent 
mixter, and don’t hurt nobody,” replied Lem. 

Here the priest sipped from his glass, and remarked : 

I gness you have fairly earned your reputation. 
Baker. I don’t know how this could be improved.” 

Much obliged,” said Lem, smiling, “ I haint practis- 
ed twenty-five years and not learnt nothing about mak- 
ing ’ade, I gess.” 

May you never dispense anything stronger, Lem,” 
exclaimed the priest, taking up his tumbler and walk- 
ing away. 

Second the motion !” responded Lem with vigor — 
and then to liimEelf, added the following amendment : 

That is, ter de public ; but in my back room, I shall 
probably dispense — but I allers called that lem’nade.” 

The young men and maidens manifested a much in- 
creased interest in affairs, when between two and 
three o’clock a half a dozen musicians mounted the 
platform and took possession of seats reserved for them. 
Some fifteen or twenty minutes — always a very trying 
time to lovers of harmony — were spent in getting their 
instruments in tune, and then the leader shouted out to 
the multitude, “ Choose your partners for a quadrille.” 

What is there in that call, and in the first strains of 
the violin which precede the dance, that set wild the 
hearts of the young countrymen and maidens ? The 


96 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


sons and daughters of farmers, mill hands, clerks in 
stores — all young people who have ever danced, and 
many who never have, thrill in every limb and muscle, 
and experience a sensation of exhilaration and delight 
at the inviting sound of the violin. 

Perhaps it is true that dancing is the most fascinating 
of pleasures to young people the world over. Certainly 
it was the case in this Northern New England locality 
where the things here related took place. They had 
their ‘^sociables,” '^parties,” picnics,’^ ‘^old folks’ 
concerts,” ^‘sleigh rides,” in which they felt more or 
less interest, but these were comparatively dull affairs 
unless there was an opportunity given them to engage 
in their ‘‘ ruling passion.” The dance or ball, pure and 
simple, alone appeared to its devotees as an event of 
the first magnitude among the things to be enjoyed. 
Notwithstanding the fact that this favorite pastime 
was under the ban of all the evangelical ” churches of 
the region round about, the sons and daughters of ortho- 
dox members of these churches persisted in indulg- 
ing in it. And before this day was to close — and almost 
on the spot from whence, many years before, Elder Fos- 
ter, in a talk to the Sabbath-School children picnicking 
in the grove, warned the youth against this evil, saying 
that those who engaged in it were dancing to their 
eternal doom,” — scores would participate in this con- 
demned diversion, their light hearts and smiling faces 
telling how far they were from thinking that their 
steps took hold on Hell.” 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


97 


There had been a prompt response to the call of the 
leader of the music. Half a dozen sets could easily 
move upon the large floor, and as fast as one figure 
was over and the platform vacated, new sets would form. 
It was a little past three o’clock when the height of 
interest and enjoyment was reached. 

Father Le Grand and his niece had withdrawn from 
the crowd a short distance to the top of a cliff, where 
they could look down upon the people and around the 
grove. They sat upon afghani3 spread upon the ground. 
The priest was smoking a cigar, and observing the com- 
pany, with a look of complacency upon his face.- Now 
and then he called his niece’s attention to some incident 
that amused him, or otherwise, or to some person whom 
he wished her to notice. A book lay open in Miss 
Gleauclaude’s lap, from which now and then she 
appeared to read a little. In her hands she held some 
sort of fancy work, to which she occasionally added a 
loop or stitch. 

She was looking at her book, when her uncle said : 

Agnes, your eyes are better than mine : tell me who 
those two gentlemen are who have just stopped at Lem’s 
table.” 

The young lady raised her eyes from her book, and 
looked at the two newcomers, which she had no sooner 
done, than she exclaimed in great surprise : 

Why — would you believe it ? — They are Mr. Fos- 
ter and his son.” 

Can it be possible ?” replied the priest, adjusting his 
glasses, and taking a new and sharp look, What can 


98 PRIEST AND PURITAN 

it mean, Agnes ? — why these people of ours are the very 
sons of Belial to such as he — I mean the older one.’’ 
After a moment’s pause, the priest continued, ‘^1 can’t 
imagine what should bring him here unless it is a feel- 
ing that he is called upon to protest, in the name of his 
ancestors and his church, against these, to him, sacri- 
legious revelries. We will wait for this mystery to 
unfold itself.” 

‘‘And that is the kind of hospitality you are to show. 
Uncle ! — a spirit that makes your niece blush for shame 
of you ?” 

“Ah ! the young man lifts his hat and bows in a very 
polite and friendly way — shall I go down, Agnes ?” 

“ Shouldn’t you ?” asked his niece, at the same mo- 
mentmeeting the eyes of Ernest Foster, and setting the 
young mail’s heart in a flutter by the nod and smile she 
gave him. 

“Well, child, come then, and we will go down and 
meet the enemy,” said the priest, rising. 

“ 0, I must go too — must I ?” 

“ Of course. I want you to draw the fire of the dan- 
gerous elder party. I think I can manage the younger 
one,” replied her uncle jocosely. 

Mr. Foster and Ernest were walking slowly in the 
direction of the clifi when Father Le Grand and his 
niece met them. 

Agnes admired her uncle almost as "deeply as she 
loved him. And on this occasion she felt prouder than 
ever of him as she witnessed the tact and grace with 
hich he received the visitors, and assured them — and 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


99 


especially the Methodist clergyman — that he felt greatly 
honored and pleased by tliis friendly act of theirs. 

The manifestations of cordiality on the part of the 
priest were altogether sincere. If he had not the best 
of reasons for thinking the Eev. Charles Foster came in 
a friendly spirit, the wish that such might be the case, 
was father to the thonght. But knowing as he did of 
the uncompromising stand Mr. Foster had taken against 
certain amusements and practices, he could not help 
wondering if anything had occurred to induce his visi- 
tor to modify the views he had so firmly held, and if so, 
whether he looked upon what was taking place within 
sight and sound, with any degree of approval. The 
priest was likely to obtain all the light wanted on the 
matter before his Protestant brother left him. Mr. 
Foster was a man who never beat about the bush,^’ 
and very soon after the four had exchanged civilities, he 
said to the priest: 

“ Father Le Grrand, my main reason for coming here 
— or at least one of the chief reasons for coming — was a 
desire to have a talk with you upon several matters. 
Are you willing to give me half an hour or so of your 
time — in some quiet place V’ 

“ I will do so witli great pleasure,’’ replied the priest. 

Thank you,” said Mr. Foster, bowing. And then 
turning to Ernest he observed, would be glad to be 
alone with Father Le Grand for a little while.” He 
hesitated a moment, and then continued, while a mel- 
ancholy sort of a smile played about his lips, ‘‘My son, 
if you are tempted to indulge in this ” — and he partly 


100 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


turned towards the platform to designate what he 
referred to — ‘‘to-day, would you be willing to deny 
yourself for my sake, and out of respect for my views 
desist — at least, until I am gone 

“The request was hardly necessary, father — I should 
not have danced to-day,” answered Ernest, somewhat 
embarrassed by his father’s making his request so 
publicly. 

Nothing could have happened to cause more surprise 
than the presence of the Methodist clergyman at the 
Catholic picnic. And when he and the priest, talking 
solemnly together, walked slowly away from the crowd 
that they might not be overheard, curiosity was at its 
height, and the people gathered in groups to ask one 
another what this conference of th'^ ministers could 
mean. 

As soon as Mr. Foster and the priest were out of hear- 
ing, Ernest turned to Miss Gleauclaude and said : 

“ My father leaves me to the mercy of a cold world^ 
and at the same time enjoins me not to indulge in cer- 
tain of its pleasures. That I may get as far away from 
temptation as possible, I have a notion to visit the 
cascade. What do you say to going with me ?” 

“ But I’m not tempted by this close proximity to the 
stage, as I never dance,” replied the young lady. 

“Ah, — indeed ! — well, then of course you don’t care 
to remain. Shall I have the honor as well as pleasure 
of showing you some of the objects of interest in this 
forest, once the domain of my ancestors ?” 

“ Do you think I have lived here all these weeks. 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


101 


and not found out anything about this beautiful place? 
While the arbutus lasted I was here every day,” said sbe« 
Oh, as to flowers and such things,” he answered, 

I presume you have noticed more than I have. But 
the cataract — the grotto, the bear’s den, have you seen 
all of these ?” 

‘‘ The cataract is something much prettier — a cas- 
cade : which I have seen, but I never tire of it. The 
others I should much like to see,” she remarked. 

You shall !” he cried. “ Follow me.” 

As he walked by her side, still using the heavy stick 
as an aid, his ankle not having become strong, the 
world seemed a paradise to Ernest Foster. The expec- 
tation that he should And a certain person there had 
made the Catholic picnic worth attending. But for 
that expectation he would never have come. And — 
strange thing — his father, on learning that he was com- 
ing, determined to accompany him. What could have 
led his father to come, he could not imagine, but he had 
to thank him for unwittingly giving him the opportu- 
nity of having Miss Gleauclaude entirely to himself for 
a while. 

He took the young lady first to the bear’s den — or as 
many people believed it to be, the catamount den, and 
he was delighted to find that he had shown her some- 
thing new and interesting to her : and still more de- 
lighted when as she entered with him a little way into 
the opening of the cave — though she persisted in going 
— she timidly shrank toward him, and tightened her 
hold upon his arm. Ah, was he ever likely to forget 


102 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


that moment when he came so very near to putting his 
arm around lier — but didn’t quite dare to do it ? 

What Ernest had been pleased to call the grotto, alto, 
gether captivated his companion. She declared that 
she should often come there to read or sketch. 

‘MVhat !” said Ernest, you wouldn’t come out into 
these wilds alone, would you ?” 

^^But haven’t I often, in search of flowers ?” 

“Not so far as this, I reckon. Be brave, but not too 
brave. Miss Gleauclaude. If I learn that you come here 
alone, I shall be sorry that I showed you these secret at- 
tractions.” 

“ Is this very far ?” she asked. 

“Yes, farther than you are aware of. We are a long 
distance northwest of the cascade,” said he. 

“We are much farther off than I supposed, and we 
must hurry back.” 

“ Yes, back to the cascade,” said he. 

“ Shall we stop here?” asked Ernest, when they had 
reached a bank of the ravine from which the falls could 
be plainly seen, but not so near that the roar of the water 
would make conversation difficult. 

“As you like,” she replied, “you know you are the 
guest.” 

“Am I?” answered he, throwing himself upon the 
ground in front of her, when she was seated, “Am 
I ? What if I should say that I am on my native 
heath, and that returning to it for the first time after a 
long absence, I find a stranger here who has supplanted 
me ?” and he looked into her face. 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


103 


I should answer that I did not understand whom 
you meant to reproach — your ancestors for bartering 
away their birth-right, or my uncle for trespassing. 
But see how beautiful the sunlight is, as it steals 
through the trees and lights up that shady glen !” she 
exclaimed. 

Yes, it is very beautiful — the sunlight that falls on 
your land but not on mine. This substantial enclosure 
— to wit — rocks, hills and dales — woods, caves and 
water-falls — all are yours, and fairly so. I donT dis- 
pute your title, you know. But please bear in mind,^’ 
and he looked at his listener in a way that made her 
laugh, ‘^please bear in mind that being in direct line of 
descent from — my grandfather, they might have fallen 
to me — had not an uncle of mine managed poorly, and 
an uncle of yours managed to get the property. Why 
don’t you congratulate me ?” 

‘‘Commiserate, I suppose. Monsieur.” 

“ ‘ Stop right thei’e, if you please ! ’ as Lawyer Bald- 
win says to the witness he cross-questions; you said Mon- 
sieur. Excuse me, but I think that is a French word, 
and I don’t talk French.” 

“ I accept, Mons — this very polite apology for com- 
pelling me to talk in your native tongue.” 

“Oh, well, you got the best of me that time, but 
Monsieur struck me rather grand and formal. I 
thought — we were beginning to get better acquainted, 
you see.” 

“ We have met three times, Mons — Mist — ” 

“ Allow me to help you. Miss Agnes Cleaucleaude — my 


104 : 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


full name is Ernest Albert Foster. Don’t forget the 
Albert, as we have met but three times.” 

Mister Ernest Albert Foster, you wished me to 
commiserate you ” 

‘‘I said congratulate.” 

, ‘‘ Why congratulate, Mr. Albert Ernest Foster ?” 

There, don’t you see you have got the name wrong ? 
Don’t, for heaven’s sake, string those four names together 
again ! I’ll tell you. All the boys and girls in the mills 
call me plain Ernest. Can’t you do that — at least when 
we are alone ? It’s only one word, and is easy to 
speak. There’s no Monsieur — Mr. Albert — etc.” 

Why congratulate you ?” 

‘‘For a very good reason which I will now give. I 
don’t know as it tvill, but what I am about to say, 
ought to interest you. When I lost these prospective 
possessions, I found some one who was vastly more in- 
terested than trees, rocks and catamount dens — I found 
you. That is, I saw you — this makes the third time. 
And to complete this — so to speak — figure of speech, I 
will again apply the rule of three, by saying that I am 
thrice as glad as I was the first time I saw you ; that in- 
stead of meandering alone over my own territory — per- 
chance putting up a bit of fence here, and a few feet of 
stone wall there, I can, now and then, stroll with you 
over your extensive park and — well, enjoy it ever so 
much more.” 

“ Mr. Albert Foster,” she replied very deliberately, “ I 
admire exceedingly the brave effort you have made to 
conceal — through a very pretty compliment to myself — 
the disappointment, I am now quite sure you feel that 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


105 


this place passed out of your family’s hands. But as 
you truly observe, my uncle has secured a clear title for 
the Bishop. Possibly he may not care to remain here 
long, and in that case, very likely he would make it 
possible for you to redeem the place.” 

Oh, you think he might be induced to offer me the 
place, and perhaps hasten his departure, when he comes 
to know how badly I want it ? So, you saw through 
my illy concealed attempt to hide my disappointment ? 
You convince me that I must be very deep hereafter, if 
I want to keep you from reading my thoughts. But 
seriously now, I can’t let you carry the impression away 
that you correctly discerned my thoughts. For you did 
nofc. Do you know, Agnes — ^there, I did not really pre- 
meditate leaving off the suffixes and affixes. But you 
see, when I got to thinking of this new and beautiful 
friend who has so lately come into my life — which I — I 
find myself doing very often — I speak of her to myself 
as simply — Agnes. It’s quite natural then, that in think- 
ing aloud, I made the slip of a moment ago. As I was 
about to observe, do you know — Agnes."” He stopped 
and glanced at her to see how she took this second 
‘^slip.” She was engaged in some important repairs on 
her fan, and he did not catch her eye. He continued. 
When you spoke of going away, I — felt something — 
very much like a sharp pain shoot through me. I sup- 
pose the idea of a change of existing conditions startled 
and distracted me. You are, perhaps, not aware that the 
Fosters are very conservative people, and anything in 
the nature of a change throws them into terror, And 


106 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


then I suppose it troubled me not a little to think of the 
possibility of my losing this new friend I had found. I 
have been fortunate in many things, but I have lacked 
for friends — that is, such as are a constant inspiration 
to a man. Of these, I have but two — my mother, and 
Agnes. My mother — my noble mother ! you’ll like her, 
I know.” 

Oh dear ! I have broken it !” exclaimed Miss Gleau- 
claude, holding up her fan. ‘‘My lovely fan that 
uncle gave me at Christmas ! Isn^t that too bad ?” 

“Yes, it’s a pity. Let me see if I can’t fix it.” 

“No, thank you. I think I can do it. I like to 
mend fans.” 

“ But you don’t know how. You have nearly spoiled 
this costly gift already,” said the young man. 

“I might not have broken it had you not spoken to 
me as you did. This rivet came out, and as I was try- 
ing to replace it you spoke of your mother. At the 
sound of that name of the best and dearest of all earthly 
beings, my attention was attracted, and as I listened, I 
somehow forgot myself, and broke off this outside piece. 
I don’t doubt you have a good mother, Mr. Foster. Oh, 
prize her ! obey her, love her and never — never give her 
a cause for anxiety or sorrow, if you can help it. You 
are a thousand times more favored than I am, for my 
mother died many years ago.” 

Ernest was surprised — not a little, nor happily — at 
the turn the conversation had taken. Had this young 
lady deliberately ignored certain of his remarks, for the 
purpose of showing him that they did not please her, or 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


107 


that she feared something to follow? Whatever had 
been lacking when he came to the picnic to convince 
him that Miss Gleaiiclande held the most important 
place in his heart, had in some way been supplied ere 
he had been with her an hour. Within that hour he 
ceased to struggle against his fate, and owned to him- 
self that he was in love. 

But there is a vast difference between confessing any- 
thing to oneself, and admitting it to another. This se- 
cret which Ernest had discovered he intended to keep 
locked up in his heart for — well, perhaps it would be 
for years. 

Imagine love keeping its secret ! or remaining under 
lock and key ! 

How many men and women experiencing the supreme 
ecstacy — or pain of love, have attempted to hide their 
condition of mind from the world when a word, a look, 
or some circumstance has surprised them into disclos- 
ing their secret — often to the very one from whom they 
most desired to keep it ! 

And thus Ernest — startled by what Miss Gleauclaude 
had said about her uncle^s tiring of Morton ville, for it 
hinted at the possibility of his losing his newly-found 
friend — was led to make, if not a oomplete confession 
of his love, a declaration naturally preliminary to, and 
suggestive of, that climax. However, he had stopped 
short of that climax, and as he fain would believe much 
short of it. Indeed he made himself believe that if she 
had not interrupted him he should not have offered 
his heart to hei% And he consoled himself with the re* 


108 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


flection that while she might interpret his words to 
mean a stronger feeling on his part than mere friend- 
ship for her, she could not be sure of it, and would have 
no right to think it. 

Could not he have thus spoken to even a male friend ? 

He was not ashamed of his love. He was not deny- 
ing it. He was simply sensitive, and wished to escape 
from the conclusion that he was on the point of offering 
it prematurely to one who would on that account, or 
any other, refuse it. A man will seldom, if ever, offer 
his hand and his heart to a woman if he has serious 
doubts of their acceptance. He may be willing to take 
some chances, but he must see some signs of encourage- 
ment or he will hesitate, postpone, and, if the signs 
grow unfavorable, withdraw from the field. That is to 
say, a man who is neither reckless nor a fool. 

If Ernest had been led to think that this lovely crea- 
tor, upon whose golden hair, and into whose heavenly 
eyes he could now never look, and not feel in his heart 
the intense longings of love, was waiting demurely, and 
was ready, like a ripe apple, to fall into his arms the 
moment he opened them, his eyes were opened to his 
mistake. She was not to be so easily won. While 
Ernest reflected, he did not allow the conversation 
to lag, but continued it in the direction Miss Gleauclaude 
had given to it. 

“What you say is true,” he replied. “No one can 
for a moment be compared to a mother, in her love 
and devotion to her children. The best of mothers 
are the noblest of women. It would be very strange, 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


109 


and a great pity, if two such women as my mother 
and yourself should live long in the same neighbor- 
hood and not know one another well.” 

Perhaps we should be afraid, one of the other. 
Which of us do you think would the most afraid ?’^ said 
slie, looking up at Ernest and smiling. 

‘‘ Afraid ! Why, what do you mean ?” he cried. 

^^Yonr mother is an ardent Protestant, is she 
not 

0, I see : and you are a still more ardent Catholic. 
Well, you are both intelligent and Christian women, 
therefore how could you quarrel ?” 

Quarrel ! Oh, what an out of place and ugly 
word ! But could we assimilate 

‘‘As you are women, and sympathetic, 1 have no 
doubt of it. Women do not allow dogmas to prevent 
friendship and sociability as men do. They have, in a 
word, more tact, more pliability, are more human, and 
at the same time, more divine.'’’ 

“ Women then, you think, are less opinionated than 
men : and more willing to waive their beliefs for the 
sake of harmony and good feeling ? There are probably 
exceptions to this rule : and possibly your mother and 
I are such exceptions,” remarked Miss Gleauclaude, 
quietly. 

“ I do not mean that either one of you would give up 
any belief which you had tenaciously held as important, 
but that on that one issue you would agree to disagree 
for the sake of uniting on the thousand others where 
such women as you two are always of one mind — in 


llo PRIEST AND PURITAN 

order that the world might continue to move/’ said 
Ernest. 

‘‘While stubborn and argumentative man blocks the 
wheels of the world that he may win over an opponent 
who will not be convinced ?” 

“ That’s exactly my idea, Miss Gleauclaude. What 
do you think of it ?” 

“ 0, I— I scarcely dare venture an opinion on a sub- 
ject I have never thought of until this hour. Your 
mother, who is older, more experienced, and much 
wiser than I, could undoubtedly judge much better 
than I, of the merits of your ‘ Philosophy of woman’s 
keeping the world in motion.’ Suppose you submit 
your theory to her ?” was her reply, as she arose. 

“ I think I will, as I have double interest in having 
my theory prove true. Ah — look ! No sooner have we 
decided to allow woman to assume the exalted pl^^ce 
which man has often shown he could not fill, than — 
shall we say her enemies ? spy us out.” 

The young lady turned and saw Mr. Foster and her 
uncle standing on a knoll not far away, conversing and 
looking at them. 

“ I should think from the uneasiness he shows that 
my father was tired of these festivities and would like 
to return : and very likely he will want to take his son 
with him. If I should tarry, could I have the pleas- 
ure of dancing with you ?” 

“ What ! and disregard your father’s wishes ? Cer- 
tainly not.” 

“But, if I get his permission ?” “ 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


111 


He would not give it : and if he did, I must still 
say no.” 

‘‘Heartless creature ! Do you refuse me this little 
boon on principle, or from perversity ?” 

“ Perhaps more from necessity — I never learned to 
dance.” 

“ Is it possible ? Your early education must have 
been sadly neglected. But I can bear the thought of 
that better than I could of your dancing with some one 
after my father leads me — unwillingly away.” 

They were now walking in the direction of their rela- 
tives on the knoll. 

“By the way. Miss Gleauclaude, do you keep a dia- 
ry ?” asked Ernest as they walked slowly along. 

“ Yes,— why ?” 

“ Please do me the honor of entering my name in it, 
and write against it : ‘He gave up dancing on the day 
of the picnic.’ ” 

“ But think a moment. What if this diary should 
one day be published ?” 

“ So much the better. Except they appear in that 
immortal work, my deeds of self-denial will never be 
recorded. 1 beseech you. Miss Gleauclaude, put it 
down.” 

“ Think once more, and seriously, Mr. Foster. Temp- 
tations are sometimes too strong to be resisted. Danc- 
ing I imagine to be a very fascinating pastime. Isn’t 
it harmless ? Do not make unwise resolutions — that 
is, such as you will find yourself unable to keep, lest, 
the first entry be made to seem worse than none, by the 


11 ^ 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


second a little farther on, which may read — ^ Behold ! 
he dances !’ It will be very hard for you to abstain — 
for a long time, at least. 

^^On the contrary, it will be very easy ^for a long 
time, at least.”’ 

‘‘ That’s contrary to common experience.” 

^‘Not when one is — lame, I reckon.” 

Oh ! you deny yourself because you cannot help 
it,” exclaimed his companion. 

^‘Certainly, said he, ‘‘the same as you do — of neces- 
sity.” 

“But why did you deceive me by making me think 
you wanted me to dance with you ?” 

“ I did want you to grant me one favor : and I 
wanted to get your opinion of the practice.” 

“Mr. Foster, you will spoil my temper, I am afraid. 
I shall put it down now and hold you to it.” 

“That’s right. Pat it down for pure malice’s sake.” 

After the four had returned to the crowd, and just be- 
fore Ernest started for home with his father, he man- 
aged to get an opportunity to say to his partner in 
charities : 

“ That little note did me lots of good. I keep it 
with my other precious things, under lock and key. 
Keep up the correspondence. Miss Glean claude.” 

There was no chance for her to reply, except by a 
look. But that look satisfied him. It went far toward 
consoling him for a certain set-back he had that day re- 
ceived : and he departed with a light heart, and think- 
ng the world still bright and beautiful. 


IX. 

When the Eev. Charles Foster became fully awake to 
the fact that he and his son were drifting farther and 
farther apart, or rather, as he viewed it, that his son 
was diverging daily more and more from a true Christian 
life, and that he would be held accountable at the judg- 
ment if that son were lost : and when, for the first time 
since Ernest was a child, his heart went out toward him 
with deep yearnings of love, and he determined that he 
must and should be saved — he never for a moment ex_ 
pected to be the instrument of his salvation in any but 
the regular, foreordained, and orthodox way. His re- 
born love, great as it was, did not make Ernest seem any 
better, or less of a sinner, than he seemed before. But 
under the stimulus of love, the hope that had well nigh 
died, grew strong in his heart. His faith in the power 
that this love was to have over Ernest was strong. It 
must and it would tell. He had a constant longing for 
companionship with his son, and parted from him with 
reluctance. He watched eagerly to discover some signs 
that his love was in a measure returned, if not in an 
equal degree. He desired and sought the closest inti- 
macy with Ernest that he might gain some knowledge 
of the working of his mind — of his plans and wishes, 
and then under the gentle and potent pressure of love 


114 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


he could remonstrate, encourage, or lead, as circum- 
tances required. 

The plan which he had formed contemplated this 
close and constant association with Ernest as far as he 
would permit it, and in everything proper for himself. 
This known, the minister’s presence at the Catholic 
picnic is explained. 

If his action in attending the picnic seems extraor- 
dinary, when his intense disapproval of everything per- 
taining to the Catholics — from their religious tenets to 
their amusements — is considered that this explanation 
is hardly satisfactory, let it be remembered that he had 
become a man of one idea.” Every thought, desire, 
and effort, had but one object in view — the salvation of 
his son. To accomplish that end, love and conscience 
propelled him forward whithersoever they would — to 
anything short of sin. 

He settled down to the belief not only that his min- 
istry would be an utter failure if he did not save Ern- 
est, but that his own salvation was dependent on the 
success of his efforts. The revival meetings were dis- 
continued for a season. And while he went mechani- 
cally through the regular routine of his ministerial 
labors, his heart was chiefly concerned with the great 
and special task which he felt that God had shown him it 
was imperative for him to perform before he could ex- 
pect to be the successful instrument for the salvation of 
men. 

If sometimes the voice ot conscience, warning him 
that the future destiny of the immortal soul which he 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


115 


had brought into the world was dependent almost en- 
tirely upon his efforts and watchfulness, was the most 
audible, at other times the voice of love sounded loud- 
est ; declaring that such expenditure of affection and 
earnest prayer and desire should not be in vain. And 
hope never entirely deserted him. 

Besides the reasons given for his presence at the pic- 
nic, there was another that conduced to take him 
there. With tireless vigilance he kept continual watch 
over every avenue through which evil influences could 
reach Ernest. In some way he had learned that his son 
and Father Le Grand had a speaking acquaintance. 
Possibly it was much worse than that, and they might 
already be very good friends, for there was a rumor 
that Ernest was in the habit of calling upon the priest. 
He heard on all sides that the priest was a man of much 
refinement and learning — that he could be very agree- 
able, and was very popular with all who made his ac- 
quaintance. Believing as he did that the adherents of 
the Roman Church had less grounds of hope than the 
heathen, because being less ignorant than that benight, 
ed people, they were more guilty, how great and immi. 
nent seemed the danger which overhung Ernest, with 
the life and teaching he had received. 

If strong love begat and kept alive in the minister’s 
heart a certain amount of confidence in the result of the 
struggle he was making for his son, it did not blind 
him to the fact that, at the best, Ernest was to be 
plucked as a brand from the burning.” No time 
must be lost. No opportunity must be neglected which. 


116 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


if improved, would make more certain and bring nearer 
the end he aimed at. Impelled by this stress of feeling, 
his actions at length began to excite the wonder of his 
people, and to create anxiety in the minds of his wife 
and son. 

Time was when he recognized the calls to duty as 
multitudinous : and in laboring according to his strength 
to obey them an equipoise was given to his life. But 
now he recognized but one supreme and imperative 
duty — all others were subservient to it — and to the per- 
formance of that one he set about with a frenzy that 
threatened to defeat his purpose, if it did not unbalance 
his mind. 

The very name of Catholicism, or of any person or 
thing connected with it, was sufficient to engage his 
most earnest attention. On the morning of the picnic, 
happening to pick up the county paper issued the day 
before, his eyes fell upon a bold heading, calling atten- 
tion to a temperance rally held a few days before in an 
adjoining town, in which Father Le Grand took an im- 
portant part. The address of the priest was the chief 
feature of the meeting, and was given in full. The 
minister read it carefully, and was not only struck by its 
forceful arguments and fervid eloquence, but certain 
passages impressed him w.th the independency of spirit 
shown, and their freedom from sectarianism. And the 
address indicated on the part of its author such a clear 
discernment of the burdens and wants of men, and of the 
means of relief : and there breathed through every sen- 
tence such sympathy for those who had burdens to bear. 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


IIT 


and such a desireto relieve them, that the minister, after 
laying down the paper and remaining some moments in 
deep thought, suddenly arose and exclaimed, will 
test this man^s sincerity this very day.’^ 

For a man who, in the opinion of his people, had 
shown that he possessed rather more than the average 
allowance of ministerial dignity and reserve, the course 
decided upon by which he proposed to test the good 
faith of the priest, was certainly remarkable. It was 
nothing else than an earnest appeal which he intended 
to make to Father Le Grand, to put a stop to the pro- 
selyting influences which aimed — as he believed — at 
making Ernest a Catholic : and enlisting the aid of the 
priest in an endeavor to turn the steps of the wayward 
young man toward the religion of his fathers. 

He had little expectation that his appeal would be suc- 
cessful, but he felt it his duty to make it. 

The meeting of the priest^s niece was scarcely calculat- 
ed to lessen the minister’s anxiety. He had not only 
never met her before, but had never heard of her. As 
he walked by the side of Father Le Grand toward the 
spot where shortly a most remarkable interview was to 
take place, he reflected that here was a new and some- 
what alarming element of danger to his son. He specu- 
lated as to how long Ernest might have known her, and 
wondered if it was not the niece instead of the priest 
that was the attraction on this side of the Shallow* 
He ended by reproaching himself bitterly for his blind- 
ness in not thinking of these things before he parted 
company with the young people. 


118 


PRIEST AND PtTRiTAI^ 


What took place at that meeting between the minis- 
ter and priest was never fully known by anyone but 
themselves. A couple of lovers desiring to get away 
from the multitude, had inadvertently come into the 
vicinity of the two churchmen. The conference was 
evidently nearly over when these young people came 
upon the scene. They reported that they saw Father 
Le Grrand seated upon a rock with his head bowed in 
his hands, while in front of him stood the minister with 
his hands folded, talking very earnestly as he looked 
down upon the priest. The listeners could catch but 
little of what was said, but they heard Mr. Foster dis- 
tinctly when he put what seemed to be a final question. 
Do you agree to this ? ’’ 

They observed that Father Le Grand remained im- 
movable for a moment, then he arose, and they heard 
him reply : 

“ I agree on certain conditions — ” 

The remainder of his words they could not hear : and 
afraid of being seen if they staid longer, the young 
couple retreated. 

When Mr. Foster and his son left the grove, many 
followed them with their eyes, and perhaps none watched 
them with greater interest than Father Le Grand and 
his niece. Certainly no one but these two kept them in 
sight long enough to see that before they had gone far 
the minister affectionately linked his arm to his son^s, 
and engaged him in an animated conversation — evidently 
agreeable to both, judging from their manner as seen at 
that distance. And had one met father and son, and 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


119 


into their faces, as they walked homeward, 
he might well have thought they had enjoyed the pic- 
nic. Both looked happy, — which, the more so, it would 
he difficult to say. The father, his heart burning with 
love for his son, and believing that the step he had 
taken was destined to remove some of the obstacles that 
had kept them apart, made no attempt to conceal the 
joy that he felt. 

Never had his love for his son been so demonstrative. 
It manifested itself in a multitude of ways. Ernest 
must have been blind, or preoccupied with his own 
thoughts, not to have read it in every act and expression 
of his father^s. It revealed itself in every smile, in every 
glance of the eye, and in the caressing manner in which 
he drew his son toward himself. 

And Ernest, wrapped up in his own sweet fancies, 
was unconsciously deceiving his father, who, ever long- 
ing and looking for some sign that the measureless love 
of his own heart had touched a responsive chord in his 
son’s, imagined, as he studied Ernest’s face, and marked 
the happy expression that had settled upon it — an ex- 
pression altogether different from anything he had seen 
there before — that at last here was an indication that 
his son was turning towards him. 

^ ^ God is good, God is good, my son !” he cried, as he 
drew Ernest still nearer to him. 

Yes, God is good,” replied Ernest, with the air of 
one who had found something in his own experience 
that warranted the words. 

^^And He does not wish to have us separated — oh. 


120 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


no. He would bring us nearer together, praise His 
name,^' continued the minister. 

Separated said Ernest, ^^what shall separate us? 
— who can or would do it ?’’ 

The world, sin, and hatred have tried, and will try, 
but they shall not prevail ! Love — our love, Ernest, 
and the love of God, shall triumph over our enemies! 
Love always wins, thank God 
^^Love — always — wins? — always? Thank God.^’ 
Though relevant, it was the answer of an abstracted 
mind. It occurred to the minister at that moment that 
possibly all this rejoicing on his part might be prema- 
ture. He remembered something he had forgotten — 
that Ernest and the priest’s niece had been together a con- 
siderable part of the afternoon. And it flashed through 
his mind that the labor of love he had been performing 
within the last two or three hours — solely for the good 
of his own — might not be entirely approved by that 
young man. When he left the grove, the minister was 
in the flrst flush of his success with Father Le Grand. 
His anxiety had been relieved, and the future looked 
bright. The thought that Ernest cherished any feeling 
stronger than mere friendship for the priest’s niece, did 
not enter his mind. But now the second and sober 
thought had come. He did not feel so sure that he had 
rightly interpreted Ernest’s looks, and he was far 
from certain that Ernest had been thinking of him at 
all while they had been talking together. His cheer- 
fulness forsook him. He longed yet dreaded to know 
the truth as to Ernest’s feelings for the priest’s niece. 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


121 


Suspense, that great disturber of the mind^s peace, tor- 
mented him, he could not endure it. 

Ernest, he said, I have you in mind in everything 
I do. I want you to enjoy yourself — to be happy. Don’t 
you think I do?’' 

What a strange question, father I — of course I think 
so. It would be an unfeeling parent that would want to 
see his son unhappy. ” 

‘^Of course I mean real happiness.” 

Certainly, I understand. There is but one kind, is 
there?” replied Ernest. 

" Some persons call themselves happy, but I cannot 
think they are really so, because their happiness does 
not last. It ends in bitterness and often in remorse. 
To my mind, true happiness is the kind that endures — 
that we take with us into the next world. That is the 
kind I want you to have. How much I want you to 
have it, you can judge when I say that my own happi- 
ness is dependent upon your obtaining it. It has come 
to this, Ernest : I live for that, and every move I make 
is with that end in view. ” 

^‘1 take you at your word, father. Of course after 
what you have now told me, I must conclude that you 
came with me to-day to prevent, if possible, my doing 
anything that might jeopardize my future real and last- 
ing happiness.” 

‘^For that, and another reason. My heart turns to 
you as never before, Ernest ; I long to be with you as 
far, and as constantly as we can go together.” 

^^I will not ask you whether it has occurred to you 


1^2 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


that your coming here on such an errand was not a sin- 
gular thing to do, for now that you have done it the 
question would be too late. NTor will I ask if acting as 
a spy upon your son is calculated to win his affection and 
his confidence. But I will simply ask what you have dis- 
covered? — And what you have done that will tend to make 
himhappy? — as these were your motives for coming.’^ 
Your reproachful words and looks cut into my heart 
like a knife, Ernest, but I must bear the pain. If I 
suffer, I am supported by the thought that the time is 
coming when you will understand me better than you do 
now, and realize how great your father’s love was. I 
think that time is coming, Ernest. You asked me what 
I discovered. My answer is that I discovered a man, 
claiming to be the true servant of God, sitting calmly 
by, and sanctioning the performance, while a multitude 
of his ignorant and miserable followers indulged in wan- 
ton and wicked revelry. I saw — ” 

Excuse me for interrupting you,” said Ernest, ^^but 
I would like to ask if the Gospel was not meant for the 
^ignorant,’ the poor, and the miserable, as well as for 
the learned, the rich, and ^the better classes.’ As I 
understand the Scriptures, it is the sick and not those 
who are well that need a physician.” 

I admit it, but what a physician he is who encourages 
his patients in prolonging and extending their disease. 
I saw how sinners enjoy themselves, and I wondered — I 
marveled, Ernest, to think there was anything in their 
practices that was attractive to you. And these people, 
Ernest, — how can you associate with them?” 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


1^3 


These people ! Father Lo Grand and Miss Gleau- 
claude have honored me with their friendship. I have 
never met their superior — no, nor equal — in culture, 
nobleness, and kindness,” replied Ernest. 

Poor, blind, deceived, infatuated hoy !” cried the 
minister. 

‘‘1 might return the compliment, and add preju- 
diced,^^ said Ernest. 

‘^You asked me,” continued the minister, ‘^what I 
had done that would tend to make you happy. I cannot 
say. I cannot tell what good I may have done to-day 
until you tell me how far your friendship for the priest’s 
niece has gone. ” 

A sudden pallor overspread his son’s face. He was 
silent a moment, and then lie came to a stand-still, 
turned and looked directly into his father’s face, and in 
a voice, low but positive and distinct, replied : 

^^As far as this — I love her.” 

The minister staggered under Ernest’s words as under 
a blow. Matters were so much worse than anything he 
had dreamed of that after his son’s declaration he could 
do nothing but gaze at him in speechless amazement. 

If he had been on the point of disclosing to Ernest the 
object and result of his interview with the priest, he could 
not — he dared not — do it now. They came to the bridge, 
crossed it in silence, and then separated, Ernest going 
up the road to visit some men who were at work on the 
canal, and his father, with his head upon his breast and 
his eyes upon the ground, moving slowly towards the 
parsonage. 


X. 


Early in the afternoon of Monday, as Ernest entered 
the office after having gone the round of the mills. 
Major Copeland looked up with a smile, and remarked : 

There is something very remarkable about the 
hand-writing of our French women here. They not 
only write a fine hand, but you cannot tell one from the 
other. Now, there is a letter on your desk left by a 
Giraud boy — probably from Madame Giraud — and the 
writing is exactly like Madame Beaubien’s. ’’ 

Well, Major, donT let it prey on your mind and de- 
prive you of rest. Perhaps these worthy women get a 
certain writer to direct their letters, ” replied Ernest, as- 
suming an indifferent air. 

Ah ! I see. You have undoubtedly solved the 
problem, Ernest. The letter is in a different hand from 
the envelope. It has troubled me, you know. I sup- 
pose to set my mind at rest, the next one that comes I 
shall be at liberty to — ’’ 

To lay it on my desk — as usual. Major. 

At that moment a messenger came from the mill for 
the Super, and Ernest put the letter into his pocket, 
and followed the boy into the mill. 

An overseer had sent for him to consult with him 
about a machine which had just broken. When the 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


125 


superintendent had given orders about repairing it, 
he went to the lower end of the room, descended 
a flight of stairs, passed out of a rear door, and 
entered the cotton house, where he knew he would be 
unobserved. He then opened and read his letter, which 
was as follows : 

My Friend : When this note reaches you I shall 
have left Morton ville. I go early to-morrow morning. 
You will think it strange that I cannot tell you why I 
go. But I cannot. While my uncle does not feel like 
giving his reasons at present for advising this step, he 
has convinced me that it is best. 

Accustomed to follow his advice, and unable to re- 
call a single instance when that advice was not for the 
best, I submit without hesitation to his judgment. He 
tells me that he feels it would be neither courteous nor 
right to go away without some acknowledgment of the 
kindness and consideration which you have shown us 
during our short and very pleasant acquaintance with 
you. 

^MYe came here not only as strangers, but foreigners, 
and it was perhaps but natural that many of the good 
people among the native residents looked upon us and 
our religion with distrust, and accorded to us a recep- 
tion in which warmth and cordiality were lacking. 

In marked contrast to the general treatment has 
been the welcome extended to us by yourself and the 
noble benefactor of the village — Monsieur Morton. 

While we have no reproaches for those who honest- 
ly fear our religion because they have always been taught 


126 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


to do so, we can hardly express our admiration for the 
friendly and Catholic spirit you have manifested toward 
us. We can never forget it and shall never cease to he 
grateful to you for it. 

So much my uncle joins me in saying — And now, 
what last word shall I say for myself ? For last word, 
my uncle assures me, and I feel, it must he. Standing 
here at the point where our brief friendship closes, and 
where we separate, never — as something tells me— to 
meet again, I .find that I cannot turn away in silence — 
without any allusion whatever to the pleasant acquaint- 
ance that has existed between us. A true friendship, 
although it he a brief one, is something of too much 
worth to he thus slighted. And while I am not sure 
that I ever saw through and beyond the varying phases of 
your manner and expression when you were with me, and 
discovered your real self, your kind efforts on every oc- 
casion that offered, to make my stay in Mortonville as 
pleasant as possible, have won my gratitude — and made 
us friends. Accept my deepest thanks for all your kind- 
ness. Our parting, like our first meeting, comes sud- 
denly and unexpectedly — hut is it not all for the best ? 
Think, my friend, would it not have come sooner or 
later ? If so, then, it is best as it is, and we have but 
to submit to the inevitable and say farewell. Is it not 
so ? But I am forgetting that you cannot answer me. 
Possibly as you review in thought — if you ever care to — 
these few weeks, now ended, you will recall some things 
you said, and your conscience may mildly accuse you for 
having spoken — even at ^ random ’ — words never meant 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


127 


to be taken seriously. Conscientious friend, if ever 
troubled by such a thought — but you will not be, for 
you are here assured that your words were taken in the 
spirit in which they were uttered : and hence no harm 
was done whether you feigned or felt what you ex- 
pressed. 

If, by and bye, I make the choice often urged upon 
me, and give up the world, and shut myself away from 
its pleasures and temptations to engage in an endless 
round of prayers and sacrifices, I may still remember 
you — in my prayers : and shall ever pray for your soul, 
and that you may never suffer pain, nor be unhappy, as 
the result of having met and known 

. ^^Agnes.” 

Ernest raised the letter to his lips, and kissed her 
name over and over again. Then returning it to his 
pocket, he walked out of the building and down to the 
bank of the Shallow. He looked across the river to the 
house that had slieltered her, and from which, as he be- 
lie,ved, she had been driven, and felt that without her 
presence it would evermore be as cheerless as the tomb. 

Erom the house his eyes wandered to the left until they 
fell upon a clump of trees whose tops towered above the 
others. Beneath those trees he had parted from her. A 
rich growth of leaves, young and fresh, covered every 
limb and twig, and hid each trunk. The new mantle of 
shaded green, with which Nature, while spring is depart- 
ing and summer beginning, clothes all her children of 
the forest, was hastening to completion. It was the 
very time when human hearts beat with brighter 


128 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


hopes, and when all creatures, and all things that have 
the germ of growth, are glad. 

But to Ernest the outlook was more dreary than on the 
gloomiest December day he had ever known. He found 
no comfort in gazing upon the fair prospect before him, 
where everything was so suggestive of returning life and 
joy. In his desolation, the appeal which Nature seemed 
to be making to him — Be glad, be happy, for all the 
earth is full of joy,” was like mockery. 

Just in front of him the eddying current had plowed 
into the bottom of the river, making a large basin, 
round and deep. This pool had long been known by 
the villagers by the dreadful name of ^^the bottomless 
pit.” 

Ernest had many times before this looked into its black 
depths and turned shuddering away. But now he drew 
near to the water^s edge, and gazed into the pool. 

I never thought,” he said aloud, at length, ^‘that the 
bottomless pit would ever tempt me to — but if I thought 
— if I knew — ” 

^'Foster!” 

At the sound of his name Ernest turned and saw Mr. 
Morton standing near the cotton house, and beckoning 
to him. In answer to the manufacturer’s summons, he 
hastened to him. 

Have you heard about Dan ?” asked Mr. Morton, 
when Ernest came up. 

Dan Morse ? No. What is it ? ” 

** The poor fellow is badly hurt — run over by the cars 
in’^boarding the train at Salem Falls, They say he 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


129 


live. I thought you or I would go down there at once 
to s6e what could he done for him.” 

Shall I go?” asked Ernest. 

You can do a great deal better in such a case than I 
can, Erny. I wish you would go. Let everything he 
done that can he. Get the best doctors, and don’t mind 
any expense that will make the poor fellow comfortable. 
It’s a bad job — bad job that Dan’s got into,” said the 
manufacturer sadly. 

Mr. Morton’s horse had been ordered and was waiting 
at the office door. Ernest sprang into the buggy, and 
in half an hour entered the room at the hotel in Salem 
Falls where Dan lay. 

Two physicians, and a man used to the care of the 
sick, were in attendance. Dan was at the moment under 
the influence of a powerful opiate which had been admin- 
istered. His eyes were closed, his face of a deathly 
whiteness, and his hands lay motionless on the outside 
of the coverlet. Catching the eye of Doctor Douglas, 
the older of the two physicians and one of the foremost 
in the county, Ernest motioned to him to follow him into 
the corridor. 

Doctor, how had is it ?” he asked, when they were 
outside of the sick room. 

‘^Bad enough. The wheels passed over both legs 
above the knees, completely severing them. The loss of 
blood was very great,” was the reply. 

^^What are his chances?” 

‘^Few and poor. Mnety-nine against him. If he 
lives a week he may recover. He is liable to die before 
morning,” said the Doctor, 


130 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


^‘^Have you told him?” asked Ernest. 

^^Told him? Why, what are you thinking of, young 
man ? I don’t tell patients they are a-going to die, for 
they may get well if I don’t frighten them to death with 
such a piece of news,” explained the old Doctor, in his 
well-known blunt way. 

Ernest and Doctor Douglas held a consultation of con- 
siderable length, and were still talking together in sup- 
pressed tones when they heard Dan’s voice. 

^^Amen ! Bless God !” he shouted, and Ernest was 
surprised to hear the words uttered with nearly the old- 
time vigor. 

The Doctor and Ernest returned at once to the sick 
room. When Dan saw Ernest he said : 

glad you’ve come, Mr. Foster.” 

Ernest drew a chair to the side of the bed, and took 
the hand which was extended to him, saying as he did 
so, while tears filled his eyes : 

^^0, Dan ! Dan ! I pity you.” 

1 don’t doubt it. You was allers reddy to symper- 
thize with ennybody in trouble. But we must make 
on’t. It might er been wuss. I’m glad ’twan’t Jim 
Dobson, nor nobuddy with a family to leave.” 

Here Dan was seized with a paroxysm of pain which 
lasted some minutes, and was followed by faintness. 
Ernest thought he was dying. When the spasm passed 
Dan resumed : 

I feel I hain’t got a great while ter stay, and they’s 
a few things, if you’ll see see to ’em, it’ll be a great 
favor.” 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


131 


willj, Dan — I will do anything you want done,” said 
Ernest. 

^^Hev yer got a piece of paper?”* asked Dan. 

Ernest took a memorandum-book and pencil from his 
pocket, which seeing, Dan continued : 

^^I’ve got six hundred dollars in the savings bank 
here. I want all of my debts paid from it, and what’s 
left I want handed to my old father, who’ll be here if 
you let him know. I think I owe Uncle Bina a dollar 
and forty cents. Be sure and pay him. I may be mis- 
taken ez to the amount, but pay him what he says it iz, 
if it’s ten dollars. He’ll tell it just as ’tis. I signed 
twenty dollars for preaching the coming year. Be sure 
that it’s paid. They’s a store bill of — maybe three or 
four dollars, and a board bill for two weeks — pay ’em. ” 

Dan was again compelled to stop talking, owing to a 
recurrence of the pain and exhaustion. Some time 
elapsed before he was able to proceed. At length he 
took up the thread of his will as follows : 

My good old father taught me^ to be a Christian and 
a blacksmith. I’ve tried to be faithful in both cabin’s. 
Ef I — don’t— see him — please tell him so. I hain’t got 
no near relations but him, and he’s to hev all my things 
• — my chist of tools and everything. 

They’s one thing tho’ that I want ter give ter Jim 
Dobson — it’s my new Bible. The old one that father giv 
me goes back to him. But this new one Jim liked ever 
so much. Jim couldn’t afford one with his big family to 
caie for, and I’d calkalated ter git him one jess like it. 
Give it ter him. They’s many passages in it which I’ve 


132 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


found comfortin’ — I’ve marked ’em. They are passages 
of promise and experience. Jim and I hev been in the 
habit of marking the passages in the Bible that we hev 
found true in our experience. If it hain’t too much 
trouble you might tell Jim to find these words in my 
Bible : 

‘ ^ ^ Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of 
death, I will fear no evil : for Thou art with me : Thy 
rod and Thy staff, they comfort me.’ They are in it 
somewhere. Ask him to find ’em, and write against ’em : 
' Dan’s last experience.’ This is my will. I’d sign it, 
but I’m very tired, and I can’t see.” 

^^You need not sign it, Dan. Everything shall be 
done as you direct,” Ernest assured him. 

Thank you,” was the feeble response. 

It took a long time to make his brief will. Weak when 
he began, he steadily grew weaker while dictating it. 
But he held his mind closely to the task, and mustered 
his rapidly-lessening strength to perform it. Although 
a light had been brought in, as he had said — he could 
not see. How truly it is described as the ‘^dark valley !” 

Ernest determined to remain with Dan through the 
night, in company with one of the physicians. One or 
two at a time those in attendance upon the sick man had 
been out to supper, and all were now assembled in the 
sick-chamber. They sat in silence round the room. 
Erom time to time the solemn stillness was broken by 
Dan’s faintly uttering some word or sentence — one of his 
much-used and well-known shibboleths. 

Some time passed in this way — perhaps a couple of 


Driest and puritan 


133 


hours. All noticed that the sick man articulated with 
increasing difficulty. By ten o’clock he spoke only in 
whispers. Ernest, who sat near, holding his hand, 
could just make out what he said. It was the same 
fervent, though feeble and indistinct repetition of the 
old expressions, ^^Amen! Bless God!” and ^^God is good.” 

At a little past ten. Dr. Douglas arose with the inten- 
tion of going. He wished to take a closer look at his 
patient and examine his pulse before leaving. At his 
request the other physician quietly moved the lamp so 
that the light would fall on Dan’s face. When this was 
done Dr. Douglas stepped to the side of the bed near to 
where Ernest sat, and looked at Dan. All eyes were 
fastened upon the sick man’s countenance. 

Suddenly, while all were observing him closely, 
he stretched his hands upward. Joy and wonder were 
stamped [upon his face. His lips moved, and Ernest 
bending over him caught the words, Glory ! Glory I 
Glory I” growing fainter with repetition like the voice 
of one passing farther and farther into the distance. 
A moment later Dan’s hands dropped by his side, and 
he lay motionless, with a happy expression on his face. 

Dr. Douglas quietly stepped to the side of the bed, 
felt of his pulse, and said in a low tone : 

It is over — he’s dead.” 

Thus had Dan’s spirit gone. 

As he lived, so he died — a true saint,” said Ernest 
solemnly. 

I have aimed for many years to shun death-beds,” 
observed Dr. Douglas, ^^and I did not mean to be here 


134 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


at this time;, but I thank God for what I have witnessed. 
It has strengthened my waning faith, and banished the 
doubts I have felt of there being any virtue in a Chris- 
tian life and a Christian’s hope. ” 

For many years Dan had tried to convince men that 
there was something in the love of God ” that was better 
than anything the world could give, but he had seemed 
to succeed but poorly. He was looked upon by many as 
an/^odd stick.” No one questioned his sincerity, but 
he was too noisy to be agreeable to some, and too relig- 
ious for others. 

But when the circumstances of his death were related, 
and the people learned from those who had been around 
his death-bed, of his marvelous patience, his resigna- 
tion, his calmness at the approach of death,, and especi- 
ally of that last sublime moment when his spirit took its 
flight— then it was that his influence began to be power- 
fully felt. 

More than twenty-flve years have passed since Dan 
Morse died : but still he is not forgotten in Mortonville. 
Far from it. Many date their new birth ” from that 
solemn and impressive event. And when — as is some- 
times the case — some speaker at the prayer-meeting re- 
fers to Dan Morse and his translation,” all are im- 
pressed, but most deeply those who knew him and had 
looked down upon him when he was in the flesh. 


XL 

To a man deeply in love, and his- course of love run- 
ning the opposite of smoothly, there is apt to come a time 
when he can no longer deliberate. He must act, or 
die : so he thinks. 

Ernest had reached that point that afternoon while 
he was standing on the brink of the bottomless pit,’’ 
and at the very moment the news came of the accident 
to Dan. Hot that he contemplated committing that 
awful act, which would have startled and shocked the 
village much more than Dan’s death had done. He was 
neither hopeless nor insane, and suicide is the recourse 
only of those who are one or the other. 

But he felt that there was no certainty of his mind’s 
remaining sound if he sat down and waited for matters 
to ^^come right.” Action, and not repose, was the an- 
tidote for a mind affected as his was. 

The tragic event that had thrown the community into 
such a state of excitement had kept his mind busy for 
several days, and dulled his sense of his own trouble. 
But after Dan was buried, Ernest turned to himself 
again. 

The funeral was Wednesday. During Thursday, 
Ernest had reached the conclusion that he would call 
upon Father Le Grand that evening. He settled upon 


186 


PRIEST AKD PtJRITAJ^ 


this as the first step towards finding out where Agnes had 
gone. For he was determined to find her. - 

Father Le Grand knows why she went away, and 
where she has gone,’’ he said to himself. He may not 
consent to enlighten me on either point, hut he shall 
have the opportunity to refuse, at any rate. ” 

On his way to the priest’s house that evening there was 
evident in his looks and manner no small amount of de- 
termination. Somehow he felt that he was the only 
friend of the priest’s niece in the place; and that he was 
not prompted to go upon his present errand solely by his 
love for her, hut partly because his sense of justice cried 
out against the wrong that had been done her. His 
feeling toward his father had reached a state of bitter 
resentment, for he looked upon him as the prime mover 
in this persecution of the priest’s niece. 

Thus far, his resentment had not taken the priest in. 
But as he pursued his way, it dawned upon his mind that 
Father Le Grand had himself sent Agnes away. Why 
had he done it ? Hid she want to go ? There was no 
evidence to show that. Her letter led him to believe that 
she was ordered to go. Was she sent away at the request 
of his father or get her away from him ? And had the 
priest and the minister joined hands then in this wicked 
scheme to separate them? But with whom but the 
priest could the monstrous idea of sending Agnes to a 
convent — for the allusion in her letter was undoubtedly 
to this — have originated? Agnes had said that she 
had been often urged to take this step. Who had urged 
her ? Who but her uncle was likely to do it ? Ho one. 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


137 


And now his whole nature rose in condemnation of the 
priest. He longed to stand before him and denounce 
him for his cruel treatment of Agnes. He quickened 
his steps, and soon reached the priest’s house. Giving 
the door-hell a not very gentle pull, he brought Father 
Le Grand promptly to the door. 

The priest was surprised to see Ernest, and although 
he extended to him a very polite greeting, Ernest thought 
he appeared somewhat embarrassed, and it strengthened 
his determination to be unsparing in his denunciation. 

Father Le Grand led the way into his library, where 
he offered Ernest one of his easy chairs, and then seating 
himself, waited for his visitor to speak. 

Ernest did not accept the seat offered him. He 
stood once more in the house where but a few days before 
he had passed a happy hour with the woman he loved. 
She had been driven from it, and from him. The room 
in which he had passed that evening with her was dark. 
Everything about him seemed to say to him, ^^She is 
gone. ’ ’ Where is she ? was the sole thought that pos- 
sessed him. 

He faced the priest, glared at him steadily for a mo- 
ment, and then asked — or rather demanded : 

Where is Agnes?” 

The peremptory manner in which Ernest put the 
question irritated the priest, but he did not show it, only 
as his reply indicated it. 

Don’t stand, Mr. Foster — you’ll be much more com- 
fortable seated. I supposed that you knew that my niece 
had gone. Didn’t she write to you?” was his answer. 


1B8 


PRIEST AND PURITAJf 


^^Yes, she wrote me that she was compelled to go. 
Where has she gone? and who compelled her to go?’^ 
said Ernest, paying no attention to the priest’s renewed 
invitation to make himself comfortable. 

My young friend,” — the priest spoke slowly and 
calmly — unless you change your manner of addressing 
me, I am afraid you will get little satisfaction from this 
visit. You speak as a man of authority would speak to 
one who is guilty of some crime or great wrong.” 

I speak for Agnes, whom you and my father have 
wronged,” cried Ernest, with flashing eye and rising ex- 
citement. 

you speak for her? Let us understand each 
other, Mr. Foster. Has she given you the authority to 
speak for her?” 

Ernest’s eyes fell before the priest’s, as he replied : 

^^No.” 

‘‘1 thought not. Well, now, she has given me that 
right. From that you may imagine that she looks upon 
me as a friend and not an enemy. You have charged 
that I have done her wrong. Be more explicit, and tell 
in what particular.” 

I will,” exclaimed Ernest. She came here to live. 
There is reason to believe that this was to be her home, 
and that she was happy here. She loved the place I am 
quite sure. She was doing good here to these people — 
for she was an angel. But though an angel, she loved 
freedom, and the right to come and go as she chose. 
From this place of her choice she is sent away . And 
where has she gone ? I shudder, and grow sick at heart. 


PRIESi? AND PURITAN 


m 


as 1 think what you — influenced in some unaccountable 
way by my father — have determined for her. In God’s 
name, do not blot out the light and hope of Agnes’ life 
by sending her to that horrible religious prison that goes 
by the name of a convent ! If you had the right to do 
it, I cannot understand how a man — such as I have be- 
lieved you to be, could have the heart to do by his niece 
as you are doing.” 

To this outburst, Father Le Grand replied in the 
most quiet manner : 

^^For a disinterested person, you make a very earnest 
plea in behalf of my niece. I am surprised at the ear- 
nestness of your appeal, but more surprised that you felt 
called upon to make it. As you have in no way at- 
tempted to justify this remarkable visit, I feel that I 
should be justified in refusing to reply to what you 
have said, and in requesting you to withdraw. The 
terms which you have applied to an institution held in 
respect and reverence by the members of our faith 
would also warrant me in turning my back upon you. 
But I shall answer you better than you deserve. 

^^The strong appeal which you have made for my 
niece was altogether needless. She has her liberty. It 
is in no way abridged. I advise her, but never seek to 
turn her in any direction by holding a penalty over her. 
I never compel her to do anything. As to her entering 
a convent — that is left entirely to herself to decide. I 
have never encouraged her doing it— on the contrary, 
what I have said has borne the other way. I did coun- 
sel her to leave Mortonville, and ^hen I make known to 


140 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


lier — as I shall some day — my chief reason for doing so, 
she will admit the wisdom of it. She was indeed satis- 
fied that it •was best for her to go, before she went. 
She has gone, and I do not — he corrected himself 
— ^‘and does not intend to return. A school-mate, a 
dear friend of hers, has taken the veil, and she may 
do the same. But — selfishly, I fear — I am praying 
that God may not impress the belief upon her mind 
that she is called to do it.’’ 

Ernest dropped into a chair as the priest closed. He 
was thrown into the deepest dejection, and his white 
face appealed to Father Le Grand for mercy as he 
asked : 

Am I not to know where she is ? — May I not see 
her?” 

While I do not feel that I have the right to answer 
positively yes or no, to your question — for it doesn’t 
rest entirely with me — my judgment is that it would 
not be wise for you to see her, nor communicate with 
her : and my opinion is that you could not learn of her 
whereabouts if you sought to do it,” said Father Le 
Grand. 

Father Le Grand,” Ernest rose and stood before 
the priest as he spoke, I love your niece. You may 
have guessed it — you now know it. I love her deeply, 
truly, and with all my heart.” And then with a sigh, 
^‘No man ever loved a woman more. Will you give 
your consent to my telling her so?” 

You ask my consent. Have you already told her ?” 
asked Father Le Grand. 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


141 


No.’’ 

‘ ^ Does she mistrust it ?” 

do not know. Eead this.” And Ernest handed 
him Agnes’ letter. 

The priest read the letter very carefully twice, and 
then returned it to Ernest, saying : 

You see, she does not expect to meet you again.” 
But if she knew I loved her, and how miserable I 
am since she went away, perhaps — ” 

Perhaps she would be as unhappy as you are,” in- 
terrupted the priest. Misery loves company, and if 
you could only let her know how badly you feel, I pre- 
sume, as she is a very sympathetic person, she would be 
miserable too. Is that what you want ?” 

If I cannot win her love, I shall care but little for 
her sympathy. If I felt that she was indifferent to me, 
and that the case was hopeless, I — ” 

But isn’t it a hopeless case ?” said Father Le Grand, 
again interrupting. 

How am I to know until I see Agnes ? — unless she 
has told you something that convinces you my fate — 

0, I don’t mean in that respect. It never entered 
my head to ask her whether you were any dearer to her 
than other friends, and I never have. But in another 
aspect, is it not an altogether hopeless case?” asked the 
priest. 

^^I do not understand you,” said Ernest. 

^^Well, are you at liberty to offer yourself to my 
niece ? Can you do it with the full and cheerful con- 
sent of your father? I have the impression that he 


142 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


would not be pleased to have his son form an alliance 
with a foreigner and Catholic. If he should oppose it, 
that would of course make it impossible.’’ 

Why so? I am my own master. He has no power 
over me ; and in this matter I will not obey him !” ex- 
claimed Ernest. 

^^You will hardly expect me — a Catholic priest — to 
encourage disobedience to parents, ' ’ remarked Father 
Le Grand, while a peculiar smile stole over his face. 
“ Our rule is to require the consent of parents or guard- 
ians in these matters.” 

Ernest’s countenance fell. He turned and walked 
towards the door slowly, and then came back to his chair. 
Seating himself he rested his arms upon the table, and 
with his head clasped in his arms, he was a picture of 
misery. After a few moments spent in this attitude, he 
remarked, gloomily: 

“ What is the use of telling me to get his consent ? I 
would do anything, and suffer any humiliation, if he 
would only give it. But he won’t — and you hnoxv he 
won’t. Father Le Grand ! You don’t admit it — you may 
deny it — but I feel sure that it was something he said 
that led to Agnes’ being sent away.” Then suddenly he 
sprang up, and with intense feeling he cried : '^Good 
God ! is it possible that you will lend yourself to carry- 
ing out his contemptible prejudices, although you see it 
is driving me to desperation? Father Le Grand, my 
father is in the wrong in this matter, because he is 
blinded by his prejudices, but you should be broader and 
more humane, as you are unbiased. I tell you that love 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


143 


is older than either of your religions, and it has the sanc- 
tion of God as well as either ! My love for Agnes is the 
noblest emotion that ever moved me — it has made me a 
better man. I have some hope that if she was free to 
tell me the thoughts of her heart, I should find she was 
not indifferent to me. How dare you, a minister of God, 
stand between us ? To me, she is an angel whom He has 
sent to bring me nearer to Him. And you and my father 
interpose with your human judgments and inhuman 
prejudices to prevent the work He designs to do through 
her. Justify yourselves in the eyes of God, if you can ! 
but if you imagine that anything you can do or say, either 
of you, can quiet me, turn me from her, or cause me to 
forget her, or cease to love her, — you will be mistaken. 
And until I hear from her own lips that she does not and 
cannot return my love, I will never give her up !” 

Be seated, and hear me,’’ said Father Le Grand. 

Your regard for my niece has reached a point much 
beyond anything I had dreamed of. I did not know 
until this ev^ening that you loved her. This forces me to 
see that a possible crisis is at hand. The greatest desire 
of my heart — the one that rises above and overshadows 
all others — is the desire that my niece may be happy 
here, and hereafter. I wish for Agnes just what your 
father wishes for you. Your father conscientiously be- 
lieves that your happiness can only be secured by sepa- 
rating you from such influences as we bring about you, 
and he satisfied me that, considering the difference of 
your religious training, it was best that you and Agnes 
part before any serious attachment — which we did not 


144 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


imagine then existed — should be formed. It seems that 
we were too late to prevent it on your part. If Agnes 
escaped, and is still heart-whole, as her letter to you in- 
timates she is, I shall be relieved. Forgive me, if this 
seems cruel to you, but, like your father, I am chiefly 
concerned in the welfare of my own household. But,’’ 
the priest arose, thought a moment, and then resuming 
his seat, asked : ^^Is it too late to let the matter end 
where it is? Think ! You are not sure of winning Ag- 
nes. If she refuses you, you will wish you had taken my 
advice and stopped here.” 

With a weary air Ernest leaned back in his chair, and 
dropping his eyes upon the floor, replied : 

I cannot stop — I cannot reason. Whatever befalls 
me I can hardly be more wretched than I am now. I 
must know my fate, and I must learn it from Agnes 
herself.” 

My son, that ends it! — you shall have your wish ” 

Thank God ?” cried Ernest, springing up. 

^^Wait a moment,” commanded the priest, ^‘^I have 
not finished. You shall have your way, but first, go to 
your father and tell him of your intention, and ask for 
his consent. But something tells me to pause a moment 
— that you may reconsider your determination to 
see Agnes. Even now it is not too late. I ask you — 
once for all — to give her up, and become a stranger to 
her. Will you do it ?” 

The words of Father Le Grand, uttered in the most 
solemn manner, might have turned Ernest from his 
purpose had he been faint-hearted, or had his love 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


145 


been less than it was, but being as it was, his heart pro- 
pounded the question to his heart, Will you give up 
Agnes — and the priest was promptly answered : 

No,” said Ernest firmly, I will not do it.” 

Very well,” resumed the priest, be it as you will. 
Go to your father. You are sure that your love for my 
niece is deep, strong and enduring — ‘ No man ever 
loved a woman more ’ — those are your words. When 
you have seen your father your love will have been tested. 
You may then waver — it would not be strange — and lis- 
ten to his entreaties. But if your love survives the test, 
come to me, and I will tell you where Agnes is and give 
you full permission to win her if you can.” 

Ernest was about to reply, but the priest raised his 
hand and silenced him. Then rising and straighten- 
ing his tall and powerful frame to its full height, he 
fixed upon Ernest a piercing look. In his countenance 
was the sign of some resolution formed, and as Ernest 
looked up into the strong — and, at that moment — stern 
face, he had little doubt that whatever that resolution 
was, it would be carried out. 

^^If it does not survive his bitter opposition, you must 
not return — it would be perilous for you to do so.” 

Ernest never forgot the calmness — the terrible calm- 
ness — with which Father Le Grand spoke. 

Your father,” he continued, ‘‘may be forgiven for 
believing that my niece is nothing more than one of the 
countless pure and noble women who beautify and bless 
the earth. He may be forgiven, because he does not know 
her. But you know her — you love her. How then can 


146 


PttmST AND PURITAN 


you justify yourself if, for any cause, your love so much 
as falters? You could not justify yourself to me. If then, 
you do not come quickly to me to confirm your earnest 
declarations of this evening see to it that you do not 
cross ray path. I have but little more to say, and when 
that is said, I desire that you leave me — it is this. I 
cannot offer you one word encouraging you to think 
that your love is returned. You go forth with little 
hope. If, therefore, you at this moment will elect to 
stop where you are, you are absolved from any obliga- 
tion to my niece, and I am still your friend. Will you 
do it r 

No, I will not,” said Ernest, and, without another 
word he arose and left the house. 


XII. 

Ernest had a very painful interview with his father 
on Friday morning, Mr. Foster used every argument 
at his command to deter Ernest from his purpose, but 
all his efforts were unavailing. 

Early Saturday morning Ernest called upon the priest, 
and when Father Le Grand came to the door, he said : 

I come for your blessing and a Godspeed — I am 
going to Agnes.” 

‘'Not so fast, my young friend,” replied the priest. 
“Come in for a moment.” And then ushering Ernest 
into the library and giving him a chair, he made him 
relate everything that had taken place in the interview 
with his father. 

“ And you are still bound to see Agnes, in spite 
of your fathers and my warning ?” said Father Le 
Grand. 

“ Oh ! I must, Father Le Grand. I love her ! I love 
her ! Do you know what that means ?” cried Ernest, 

“ My son,” answered the priest, with emotion grasp- 
ing Ernest’s hand. “ I no longer doubt you. I am con- 
vinced that your love for Agnes is pure, noble and 
steadfast, and although to me there is not among wo- 
men the equal of my niece, I confess that I think you 
are worthy of her. There ! I never expected to find the 


148 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


man of whom I believed that. You have won my re- 
spect, and more than that, you create in me a much 
more affectionate feeling. But what do you care for the 
love of the old priest ! ’Tis the niece whom you want 
—well—’’ 

Father Le Grand took a piece of paper and wrote on 
it, and handed it to Ernest, and then continued : 

Agnes is in Montreal. There is her address. Go and 
see her ; you have my permission, and you go with my 
blessing.” 

Then smiling and shaking his head slowly, he said : 
‘^But my permission and blessing can do nothing 
towards helping you to win her. What if in spite of 
these, and my great respect for you, she refuses to be 
won ? Alas ! I cannot help it ! I can only pity you. 
But go — I can do no more for you — your fate is in her 
hands, monsieur.” 

Within an hour, Ernest was on his way to Montreal. 
Perhaps it would have distressed some of his good 
friends in Mortonville to have known that, when he 
boarded the train, he took a ‘‘smoker.” However, 
that was what he did. He had been enjoying his cigar 
for a short time, not dreaming there was a person on 
the train whom he knew, when a man a few seats in 
front of him happened to turn round, and he saw his 
mistake. The man was Lem Baker. Lem noticed 
him and at once came back and took a vacant seat in 
front of him. 

“Hello! wher’n natur you goin’ tew, Mr. Foster?” 
he asked, as he came up. 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


149 


“ To Montreal — and you ?” 

St. Albans/’ answered Lem. 

“Isn’t that a great way from home, for you,” asked 
Ernest. 

“ Yis, ’tis — quite venturesum — fnrder’n I ever 
went afore. Gess what that is,” said Lem, handing to 
Ernest a small iron contrivance about the size of a 
pocket rule when shut up. 

Ernest took it and examined it for a few moments, 
and then asked if it was a puzzle. 

“A puzzle,” cried Lem. “Well, I reckon you’ve hit 
it purty near. Id’s ter puzzle hurglarrers when they 
want ter git inter your room. They kin pick the lock 
mebbe, but they can’t do nothin with that little item,— 
n-no sir, not much !” 

“Quite ingenious. Is it an invention of yours?” 
inquired Ernest. 

“ Intirely so. 0, we hain’t all ijits up in Mortonville, 
be we ?” 

“Not as long as we have inventors among us,” replied 
Ernest, handing tlie “ burglarrer ketch,” as Lem called 
it, back to the owner. 

“ What sort of a gimcrack ye got there ? a pertater 
parer ? bawled one of two farmer-like looking men sit- 
ting several seats in the rear. 

This made the other man laugh, and attracted the 
attention of many hi the car to Lem. 

“ Not ezactly, Mr. Tatertops,” replied Lem, his tem- 
per ruffled a little by the man’s manner. “It’s a corn- 
sheller. Likewise it’s good to make hens lay.” 


150 


PKIEST AND PURITAN 


Several besides the other men laughed now. 

‘^How’ll ye make hens lay with that air tool ?’* asked 
the farmer-like man, still unsatisfied. 

Make ’em lay down, if ye hit ’em with it,” said 
Lem. ^^Come, Tatertops, buy one, — only a quarter,” 
sung out a passenger. And then most of the occupants 
of the car gathered around Lem and bought him out. 

“Tatertops” redeemed himself by making the first 
purchase. Ernest barely managed to get one of the 
articles, so rapidly did the great closing-out sale take 
place. 

After completing this stroke of business, Lem set- 
tled back on his seat in a very contented frame of mind 
— by turns talking to Ernest, watching the farms and 
villages by which they were speeding, and dozing. 

When Lem was napping Ernest quite naturally fell 
to thinking of Agnes, and he wished more than once 
that his loquacious friend would sleep longer at a 
time than he did. After every awakening Ernest 
waited with some impatience for Lem to g*ive the final 
jerk to the broad brim of his very fiexible felt hat, 
which would give it the appearance of a black tunnel, 
and bring it well down over his eyes, — for this was the 
signal that Lem was about to take another snooze. 

Lem may have had many a pleasant dream — albeit he 
snored quite loudly at times — on that journey, but it is 
to be feared that he interrupted Ernest in his castle- 
building so often that that young man never got a 
great ways above the foundation, until Lem got off the 
train at St, Albans, 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


151 


Imagine Ernest sitting there with his arms folded, 
and his eyes turned towards a window, a “ far-away ’’ 
look in them, that possibly swept by persons and places 
near and took in Montreal and a certain person there; a 
smile on his shapely lips, and his thoughts busy with 
very pretty plans — when suddenly the black tunnel in 
front of him is given a quick tilt backward, a red face is 
turned toward him,and Lem’s lusterless eyes are fas- 
tened upon him, and then comes: 

‘‘ Make hay while the sun shines — that’s the idea. 
Don’t you say so, Mr. Foster?” 

Ernest reluctantly leaves his air-castle and comes 
down to talk with this man who has called, although he 
doesn’t feel willing to spare a moment just now. ‘‘Yes,’ 
he replies, he thinks it is an excellent maxim. But he 
isn’t sure that he can see his own way clear to apply the 
injunction. He wishes he might. 

“Make hay while the sun shines,” repeats Lem, 
“and I would add, tohar it shines. Don’t you say so, 
Mr. Foster?” 

“Oh certainly! certainly!” assented Ernest. 

“ You’ve got tew, hain’t ye? Hain’t no other way, is 
there?” 

The young man with a sigh admits that there is not. 

“ Well, you’re goin’ ter Monterral — what er you goin’ 
there /or?” 

Ernest was tempted to tell his companion, none of 
his business, but fortunately Lem didn’t give him a 
chance. 

And what am I goin’ ter St. Albans for? Because 


162 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


its cloudy in Mortonville jist now — for both and 
me” 

What do you mean by that?’^ inquired Ernest, 
not very pleasantly, fearing Lem was drifting toward 
something disagreeable. 

I meant you can’t make hay in Mortonville — not 
jist now. But up in Monterral, tho’ it’s a ruther back’ard 
place, you expect there’s a leetle sunshine there for you, 
and that you’ll dew suthin’ at hayin’. Likewise in St. 
Albans, I’m layin’ out ter cure a big crop. My son lives 
there, and he writ me that they’d been a sight burglar- 
raries there lately — in the banks, and all ’round. When 
I got that letter, the fust words that come to me was, 
— ^ make ’ — ” 

0, 1 see, — very good,” interrupted Ernest, and then 
he turned and looked out of the window, hoping that 
his companion would become drowsy again. And so he 
did. In a short time he yanked down his hat, and very 
soon after was snoring vigorously. 

Ernest was very much afraid that the conductor, who 
soon came along, would awaken Lem in order to see 
his ticket, but to his infinite relief, the conductor re- 
membered him, and passed on. 

Again Ernest folded his arms and looked out of the 
window, and very probably forgot his environments as 
he became absorbed in his work upon that imaginary 
structure. It must have been pleasant work. For now 
and then a smile came, lingered a moment, went and came 
again. And now and th5h his face was transfigured 
by an expression that was almost better than his smile. 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


153 


Half an hour passed, and Ernest scarcely changed his 
attitude. Neither did Lem. Ernest might have been 
unconscious of Lem’s existence for another half hour or 
longer, but for a quick, shrill whistle of ^^down brakes.” 
There was a sudden lessening of the train’s speed that 
threw the inventor” nearly over the seat in front of 
him, followed by a still more rapid darting ahead that 
caused him to himself with lightning-like dis- 

patch — the outcome of which complex movement was to 
deposit one tunnel-shaped hat in Ernest’s lap, which hat 
immediately emptied itself of abandann a handkerchief, 
one printed circular, one letter from the owner’s son 
John, and one wooden comb. 

As soon as he could catch his breath, Lem sprang up, 
and with a face as white as an unusually red one could 
become with so short a notice, exclaimed : 

What under the canopy’s the marter ?” 

, Nothing serious, I guess,” said Ernest, handing 
. over Lem’s hat, and then gathering up the scattered 
articles that came out of it. 

‘‘That’s the worst thanker rnarm I ever rid through 
anywhere,” remarked Lem. 

“ Something was on the track, probably,” explained 
Ernest. 

“ What do they dew in such a case — jump over it, or 
turn out ?” asked Lem. 

“ Oh, neither. The cars can’t leave the tracks, you 
know. If they did, we might all be killed. The en- 
gineer, in case of obstructions, gives a signal with the 
whistle which the brakemen understand, and who hasten 


154 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


to apply the brakes and stop the cars before there is a 
collision,” replied Ernest. 

Does the engineer allers blow the whistle as a warnin' 
when he sees suthin’ ?” 

‘‘ Yes — or at least, he means to.” 

The information hardly operated to calm Lem^s 
nerves, for at every sound of the whistle thereafter he 
would clutch the seat-arms, and anxiously inquire of 
Ernest if they “ wan’t going ter have another circus,” 
or if he s’posed the brakeman heard the whistle ?” 
And once, at a very long and loud blast he became very 
much exercised because the brakeman sat complacently 
on his seat, and asked Ernest if he didn’t think he’d 
better go and order the hardened sinner ter chain the 
wheel, if he didn’t want his head broke.” 

Ernest persuaded him that it would not be best to 
interfere with the management of the road ; and after 
awhile, as there had been no more sudden stoppages, 
and they appeared to be still on terra firma, Lem became 
quite reconciled to the state of affairs. 

At length, to the great satisfaction of the two travel- 
ers, the conductor called out ** St. Albans.” (This 
service of calling stations is now required only of 
brakemen.) 

Ernest would have to wait some twenty minutes be- 
fore he could continue his journey, and so he went out 
of the car with Lem. When they came to the engine, 
as they were walking toward the depot, Lem stopped, 
and pointing at it said to Ernest : 

‘‘Well, I dunno’s I’m to be blamed if I dew feel 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


165 


ruther shaky ridin' arter sich a boss. I don’t wonder 
the thing is hot and narvous with nothin’ but bilin’ 
water in its stummick. So the world goes. It must 
suit old Nick ter see men hitch up bilin’ water and drive 
it, and it’ll please him all the more if they can git hold er 
suthin’ more danger’s and more powerful to tear ter 
pieces and scald, and ter yank men and wimmen inter 
eternity in more wholesaler fashion.” 

Having relieved himself by these remarks and a deep 
sigh, Lem started off in search of his son. 

From St. Albans to Montreal, Ernest, traveling alone, 
found everything favorable to a resumption of the work 
which Lem had so many times interrupted, and he en- 
tered into it with great delight, beginning almost the 
first moment after the train left St. Albans. 

How many a man who builds a house upon the solid 
earth, ‘‘just as he wants it,” finds when it is done, that 
it is not just the thing after all? Most builders, prob- 
ably. The majority of builders after their work is done, be- 
lieve if they were to build again, they would change their 
plans or work in one way and another. But is that true 
of castles built in the air ? It would seem to be so, judg- 
ing by Ernest’s experience. If, on that journey, Ernest 
in his imagination saw one structure rapidly arise 
from the foundations, and at length stand completed— 
its towers and turrets looming in the red light made by 
the setting sun — he did twenty. And not one was per- 
fect when it was done; and the last was as unsatisfactory 
as the first. And only as he drew near to Montreal — 
after he had built and demolished a score or more of 


156 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


these fanciful edifices, did he discover that the rea 
trouble with each was the foundation. Evidently he 
had never heard of Thoreau’s wise injunction — or if he 
had, he had forgotten it. 

‘‘ You have built a castle in the air ? Then put a 
foundation under it.’’ 

Put a foundation under a structure already built ? — 
That was not the thought that came to Ernest as his 
train approached Montreal. But it was this : I am 

afraid I was a fool for attempting to build until I had a 
foundation. The thing is impossible.” Then taking 
Agnes’ last letter from his pocket, and reading it again 
very carefully, he said to himself: 

Somehow this don’t read as it did. There is nothing 
here that warrants me in doing what I am. I wonder if 
— if— she will be glad to see me. I don’t know but 
what she was glad of an excuse to get away from me. 
Father Le Grand knew more than he pretended as to 
Agnes’ feelings towards me. If he knew she didn’t — 
er — like me, why didn’t he tell me, and let me stay at 
home ?” Then he recalled with a sigh that the priest 
had discouraged him somewhat. 

“Faint heart never won fair lady,” said courage, con- 
temptuously. 

“ Be bold — be bold — be not too bold,” responded 
caution, gravely. 

Such was the unsettled state of mind in which Ernest 
found himself when he got out of the cars at Montreal 
and took a coach for the Donegami. He had been in 
the city several years before and had stopped at the ho- 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


157 


tel mentioned, and so lie decided to put up there now. 
It had been Ernest’s intention to send a note to 
Agnes Sunday morning, apprising her of his presence 
in the city, and asking if he might see her in the even- 
ing. But when Sunday morning came, he did not do 
it. He hesitated ; he lost confidence in himself. He 
dreaded the ordeal— the meeting that was to decide his 
fate. What if he had been mistaken, and Agnes did 
not care for him ? Could he bear to hear her say so ? 
Could he endure the pitying look she would bestow 
upon him when she told him ? No, he could not. He 
should become a madman if he found he had won lier 
pity instead of her love. He could stand her scorn, but 
her pity — anything but that ! The young man’s pride 
must have spoken then. 

How miserable he was, and he came there expecting 
to be made the happiest man in the world. Who can 
say that Satan is not the father of some forms of doubt, 
as he is said to be of lies ? And if he is, with what 
fiendish satisfaction he must contemplate the work of 
his offspring. 

Ernest remained at the hotel for the greater part of 
the day. The morning hours dragged slowly, and he 
felt that he must do something to pass away the time, 
and so he smoked until he was tired of it, and finally 
threw away a newly-lighted cigar in disgust, declaring 
that the habit was a nuisance, and that he believed he 
should give it up. 

At two o’clock he went to dinner. At three o’clock 
he stepped to the cigar stand near the office, purchased 


158 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


a half dozen Henry Clays,” lighted one, and remarked 
to the attendant, that he must do something to kill 
time. 

And so he was killing time — this young man who had 
been in such haste to reach the city and come into the 
presence of the woman he worshipped, that in glowing 
words he might declare his love — instead of doing as he 
intended when he left home. 

What a change had come over him ! At home, in the 

States ” he passed for a very brave and manly sort of 
a fellow, but in the Dominion of Canada he certainly 
was acting strangely. Could it be possible that in and 
about the Donegami there was a preponderance of the 
^^non-annexation” sentiment, and a large representa- 
tion of that body of men in Canada who are afraid that 
the whole, or some part of the Dominion will yet be 
joined to the United States ? — and that Ernest, who 
was certainly a rabid annexationist when he left home 
had been led to modify his views, owing to the influences 
around him ? Or is there something in love itself, that 
will, under certain circumstances, impress its victim 
with the belief that no conveyance is fast enough to take 
him to the object of his affections, and then, when he 
reaches the city or town where she lives and is within 
half an hour’s walk of her dwelling, substitute a re- 
straining for a propelling force — smite the young man 
with an indisposition to go farther, torment him with 
ennui, and lead him to look anxiously about himself 
for some device to kill time ?” 

Let some professor of mental philosophy, or some 


t^RIESl" AND PURITAN. 


159 


young man who has been swayed by these conflicting 
inclinations, answer. 

It is to be presumed that, when between five and six 
o'clock Ernest left the Donegami, and started out for a 
walk, be had exhausted every remedy but that to over- 
come his listlessness. He used a heavy stick, for he 
was still a little lame. After travelling a short distance, 
he ejaculated : 

‘‘ Hang it ! these pavements make my leg ache,” and 
then he added with a sigh : ‘‘My wounds seem to be 
forever healing.” 

His wounds ? — He had more than one, then. 

While pursuing his walk, he took from his pocket the 
scrap of paper Father Le Grand had given him, and 
looked at it, and once he stopped a man and made 
inquiries about the streets. 

Of course the reader scarcely needs to be told that 
Ernest was looking for the street and house where 
Agnes lived. Such was the fact. And of course when 
at last he found the house, he made haste to reach the 
door and ring the bell. Such, however, was not the 
fact. 

“ This answers the description which Father Le Grand 
gave,” he said to himself as he turned a corner and saw 
a stone house covered with vines standing in an enclos- 
ure of its own. The grounds were of considerable size, 
and there were trees — just enough of them, Ernest 
thought — that added to its attractiveness. 

“ A pleasant place, surely,” thought Ernest, “ and 
somehow I could hardly think of Agnes living in any 


160 


PRIEST AND PURITAN. 


other. But isn’t it” — contemplating it solemnly — 
little forbidding ? I — I’m not certain of my welcome 
and then with still greater solemnity in his looks, — ^^‘If 
I — only knew — and didn’t have to — ask.” 

Pathetic situation ! Think of it ! He had come so 
far, and then stern necessity required that he must ash 
before he could find out what he wanted to know ! He 
was lame, too — poor fellow ! 

He did not enter the gate, but passed along slowly 
with that peculiar limp of his which his friends had 
become familiar with, — and by which they would know 
him anywhere. 

At the opposite corner of the lot he had noticed a 
clump of trees a little back from the sidewalk, and his 
intention was to get behind them where, unobserved, he 
could look at the house to his heart’s content. He did 
not look towards the house as he went by it. He feared 
that would indicate to the occupants that he wished to 
be seen, and of course he did not. 

He barely reached the cover of the trees when there 
sprang out from among them, a large dog — a cross 
between the Newfoundland and St. Bernard. He 
barked furiously and rushed toward the iron fence where, 
on the opposite side, he saw Ernest. 

‘^Christian! Christian! Come back here I What do 
you mean, sir ?” cried some one back of the trees, whom 
Ernest could not see. 

He could not see, but he could hear, and ah 1 that 
voice 1 He recognized it, and in a twinkling he was his 
old self again. 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


161 


As the brute turned and with a crestfallen air marched 
slowly back, Ernest added to his humiliation by calling 
after him, in a loud tone : 

Certainly, Christian — go back ! Is that the way you 
follow St. Paul’s injunction to entertain strangers ? 
What do you mean, sir ? You should ask my pardon.” 

Was that an exclamation that reached Ernest from 
the midst of the evergreens ? He hardly dared to think 
so. There was a hurried movement there. He saw the 
branches tremble, the foliage part, and Agnes — the gen- 
tle rays of the departing sun touching h r golden hair as 
if in blessing, and meeting the still gentler light which 
shone from those wonderful blue eyes — stood before 
him. 

How beautiful she looked ! The sight of her nearly 
took away Ernest’s breath. How his heart did beat ! 
He was afraid she would hear it although she was at 
some distance from him. 

As you wouldn’t understand Christian’s language, I 
will apologize for him. And how is Mr. Foster ?” said 
the young lady, coming down to the fence, and extend- 
ing her hand to Ernest. 

Monsieur is well, — I beg pardon — he is an invalid, 
traveling for his health.” 

Ah, is he ? He has my sympathy. Perhaps he 
would like to rest for a while. Will he come in ?” 

Will he ? — Well, that depends upon several things ; 
to wit : if he is invited, — if the man-eating Christian 
is restrained from making a meal of him,-— and if he 
can find a gateway anywhere,” replied Ernest. 


162 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


‘‘And most of all upon whether he wants to or not/^ 
remarked the young lady. 

“ Wants to— indeed ! Am 1 not ready to fall down 
from fatigue and long and painful exposure to — to — 
these infernally hard Canadian pavements ? I’ve been 
looking for some quiet nook with a — er — settee, ever 
since — for the last half hour. I do think, Miss Gleau- 
claude, that you have the hardest pavements and — hearts, 
in the Dominion, of any country I know of. Ah, isn^t 
that a driveway just below me? Look out for the dog — 
I’m coming round.” 

And around he went, and was soon seated on the long 
looked-for settee, in as pretty a spot as he was ever in. 
Opposite him sat Agnes. The dog lay on the grass be- 
tween them. 

“ And, now,” said the young lady, after they had be. 
Come seated, “ tell me of my uncle, — is he well ? — and 
how fares the little world of Mortonville?” 

He complied with her request. He was happy to in- 
form her that her uncle was well. And as to Morton- 
ville — why, business was certainly good, and everything 
seemed to be going along well. But there was an im- 
pression — more or less general — that the place was under 
some sort of a cloud. It was not what it used to be. 
Why, perhaps no one could explain, but still it was a 
fact — and could not be disputed — that there were some 
who felt there was a lack of sunshine there, and among 
those of that way of thinking were Lem Baker and him- 
self, and Lem like himself, had left the locality for a 
region where there was less humidity in the atmosphere 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


163 


Having exhausted the topic of Morton ville, he pro- 
ceeded to speak on others. Never had Ernest shown 
more vivacity or liglitness of spirit than during the hour 
he sat with Miss Grleauclaude there beneath the ever- 
greens. He often evoked her smiles and laughter hy 
his banter and wit. 

The sun went down. Twilight warned the young 
man that his companion would soon have to go into the 
house to escape being chillerd. The young lady had 
already shown that she felt the^ change in the air by 
drawing her light shawl around her neck. Still a little 
longer they sat and talked. 

Twilight was giving place to the darker shades of 
night. At length Miss Gleauclaude arose, and invited 
Ernest to go in. AVithout replying, he walked with her 
towards the house. Christian went with them, jumping 
about his mistress, and manifesting great affection for 
her. 

More rapidly than in the world around him had the 
the gloom deepened in Ernest’s heart in that last half 
hour. The question which he so much dreaded to ask 
would not be required. It was already answered. 

There are a thousand languages besides the speech of 
the lips, and ten thousand signs, in some of which love 
may, and often does, find an answer to its yearnings. 
The wish that Ernest’s pride had expressed had been 
granted, the silent question asked ; and the answer was — 
Agnes did not love him. Such was the conclusion to 
which he was guided by the sense of love. 

How terrible is the experience of the heart over which 


164 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


the waves of such a disappointment roll ! Ernestos ago 
nizing love would have prostrated itself before the 
priest’s niece, hoping to find some relief from its pain 
by confessing and pleading, but his pride sternly forbade 
it to speak, or disclose itself, saying, You shall not. I 
will help you when we get away. I will bind up your 
wounds, — it may be they are not mortal.” 

And he walked slowly with her towards the house, 
observing as they went with what kindness and gentle- 
ness she was endeavoring to make him understand that 
they were only friends, and could never be anything 
more. This she made apparent to him — not from any 
word she uttered, but through ■ that voiceless language 
and those well-understood signs. 

He thought she affected surprise when, as they 
reached the piazza, he told her that he knew she would 
think him excusable if he did not go in, as he was a 
stranger to the streets, his hotel was some distance away, 
and it was then dark. And yet he felt sure that in 
spite of these expressions of surprise, she was relieved 
by the wise course he proposed to take. 

And then with a formal touching of the hands and a 
good-bye, they parted. 

It is for all time,” he said to himself, as he went 
with head down, towards the walk which led to the front 
gate. 

"‘For all time?” repeated love. “Then my wound is 
mortal ! Oh, this pain ! this pain ! it is surely mortal. ” 

And pride never once comforted love — never so much 
as answered. 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


165 


As Ernest sought to find the walk in the darkness, he 
heard from Christian a peculiar howl. It was a long, 
low, plaintive moan. It was like a cry of distress. It 
affected him strangely. He paused, turned round, and 
groped quietly back for some distance. The light from 
the house shone down through the trellises to the 
ground. He saw Christian, and — what could it mean ? 
— kneeling upon the ground, her hands clasping a trel- 
lis, and her head bowed upon her hands was the woman 
whohe had made himself believe did not love him. 

0, love, — you, who but the moment past were moan- 
ing over that mortal wound, — did you mean to be cruel ? 
— did you mean to slay ? 

Never was there more swift transition from darkness 
to light, from indescribable misery to ineffable joy, than 
Ernest underwent at that moment. And then, moved 
with the urgency of love, he flew to the prostrate flgure, 
lifted it from the ground, drew it close to himself, and 
cried, as he kissed the pale, tear-stained face : 

Oh, Agnes, darling ! — is it the sign that my heart 
is not to break, and that my love is returned — tell me V 

The hazel eyes looked into the blue ones, and 
were very near to them just then. Four remarkable 
orbs — two pitted against two, and each pair gifted with 
a wonderful faculty of expression, and using that fac- 
ulty to its utmost power, — this was the sit 
tion as Christian looked half suspiciously and half con- 
tentedly on, wagging his tail, and wondering when the 
tall but friendly stranger was going to let Agnes go. 

A few moments later Christian followed, the two 


166 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


young people into the house, and seeing them enter the 
drawing-room and go to the opposite side of it to a small 
alcove where he had often taken a nap, concluded that 
his mistress had at last reached a safe haven, and imme- 
diately stretched himself on a rug in the hall, and pro- 
ceeded to take the rest which he felt belonged to him. 

When at a certain, — or rather uncertain hour of the 
night, Ernest and Agnes came from the house and 
walked towards the gate, Ernest was just as much a 
stranger to the streets of Montreal, his hotel was just as 
far away, and the night was as dark, as when three hours 
— more or less — before, he had made these circum- 
stances his excuse for hurrying away. But why attempt 
to hold lovers to consistency ? It is not only useless to 
do so, but wrong. 

The door being left open, Christian took the opportu- 
nity to go out and see that all was well. 

Ah, my pious friend,’^ said Ernest, as the dog came 
near, ^‘1 owe much to you. I shall insist' upon your 
having a medal, and being annexed to the United States. 
And he patted Christian on the head as he spoke. 

The dog replied with a loud bark which resounded 
through the silent street. 

Be quiet, Christian commanded Agnes in a whis- 
per. 

Yes, hush, for Heaven’s sake !” added Ernest, ^Mest 
the natives are aroused, and learn my treasonable inten- 
tions.” 

How many last words fond lovers turn again and 
again to utter at every parting, although that parting 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


167 


be but for a few hours. But now the time had come 
when these two must say their very last words for that 
meeting. These were said at the gate, as Agnes declared 
and Ernest- had agreed they should be. 

There was nothing more to tell than had been told to 
each other a hundred times — in the last few hours. But 
these were their farewells, which the stars were to 
witness. 

0, favored castle-builder ! 0, unspeakably happy 

man ! Could the sweetest dream that ever blessed your 
sleep be compared for a moment with your experience 
then, when those white arms were about your neck, that 
golden head upon your shoulder, and that pure soul 
looking from its fair tabernacle into your eyes, 
asked : 

Oh, Ernest, are you sure, — are you sure that you do 
love me with all your heart?” 

It was certainly a pardonable thing that you drew her 
a little closer — if closer she could come — as you re- 
plied : 

“ Yes — sure — sure. And me, Agnes ? Repeat the 
precious words you said, — I cannot hear them often 
enough.” 

^‘Ido love you, ^v-nest, more than I can tell you how 
much.” 

It is doubtful if her English or her accent struck 
Ernest as peculiar as she said this, but what she said, 
and what she looked, was peculiarly fitted to satisfy the 
longings of his heart. 

‘^0, Agnes !” 


168 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


0, Ernest 

One look, in which each heart read the love, the 
promise, and the joy of the other ; one long embrace ; 
another kiss, sealing once more the pledges made, and 
they parted. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


Ernest took an early train Monday morning for home, 
and a telegram sent him by Mr. Morton to inform him 
of his father's serious illness and to iiige his speedy 
return, never reached him. 

He arrived at Salem Falls at eight o’clock in the even- 
ing, where Mr. Morton’s driver met him and told him 
what had befallen his father. On Sunday morning the 
minister had arisen to give out his text, when suddenly 
he put his hand to his head, staggered backward and 
then fell heavily upon the platform. He was taken up 
in an unconscious state and carried home ; and since 
then the reports from the parsonage were not calculated 
to brighten the gloom that had settled upon the pastor’s 
people. Ernest had not been free from anxiety regard- 
ing matters at home, but he was entirely unprepared for 
the tragic news that awaited him. 

Perhaps I have killed him,” he said to himself. 
^^But it would have killed me had I obeyed him.” 

And then one desire took possession of him — to reach 
that stricken parent, and minister to him. 

When he reached home. Dr. Douglas was just getting 
into his buggy to drive away. Ernest asked his opinion 
about his father. The doctor replied that he was a little 
more hopeful than he had been the day before, but he 


170 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


was st’ll very anxious. He said there was no telling 
what the end w is to be. The minister had evidently 
suffered a sort of nervous shock. From that, he had 
nearly recovered. His circulation was good, and, in 
short, there was nothing in his physical condition tha^ 
was alarming. But that could not be said of his mental 
state. There was something in that which was perplex- 
ing and distressing at least, even if it did not indicate 
the approach of that most deplorable calamity that can 
befall a human being — the loss of reason. 

“ But we will hope for the best,” said the doctor in 
conclusion, and then drove away. 

Ernest entered the house and took off his things in 
the hall without being heard. He went directly to his 
father’s room. His father had just dropped off to sleep, 
and his mother raised her hand as a sign for him not to 
enter, and then came out to him, drew him a little way 
from the door, threw her arms around his neck and 
burst into tears. 

^^Oh, Ernest,” she cried, “what does it all mean? 
Why has this come upon him ?” 

“God only knows ! But we must bear up, mother,” 
he replied, kissing her tenderly. 

After his mother had regained her calmness, Ernest 
went to the dining-room where the servant had supper 
waiting for him, partook of a light meal, and then 
returned to the sick room to watch through the night. 

His father was still sleeping. Ernest took from his 
mother the directions the doctor had left, and then he 
prevailed on her to retire for the night. And he was 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


171 


left alone with his father, who slept so soundly and well 
for the next hour or more that Ernest found it hard to 
believe that he was in a very had way. 

Soon after his father awoke, Ernest noticed that he 
grew very restless, and that as he turned his face towards 
him from time to time, it had the expression of one suf- 
fering from fright or from dread of something. 

Father, can I do anything for you?’^ he asked. 

‘‘No, nothing now. I am glad to see that you are 
well, Ernest. I feared I had harmed you — and I dared 
not ask, lest my fears be confirmed. Is your mother 
well 

“0, yes, she is well, and has retired,” replied Er- 
nest. 

“ It relieves me. For I could not get away from the 
thought that I had killed one of you. Haven’t I injured 
either of you, Ernest 

“ Why, certainly not. What an idea !” cried Ernest, 
smiling at his father, but inwardly shuddering. 

“ What have I done ? I feel that I have committed the 
unpardonable sin, — that God has cast me off, and that 
I stand a felon in the eyes of mankind.” 

“It’s all a mistake, father, you have had a bad dream 
— that is all.” 

“It is a bad dream,” exclaimed the minister, quickly 
rising to a sitting posture, “a very bad one — 2 b fearful 
one. Why don't you awaken me, Ernest ? My back is 
on fire, my arms burn ; my muscles twitch ; I see noth- 
ing but murderous implements that are within my reach- 
Over and over again something says to me ‘ you are 


172 


PRIEST AND PURITAN. 


thinking of doing this awful deed. You think you must 
do it — that you can^’t help doing it. You’ll do it. 
You’W surely diO it yet.’ Can nothing stop me? Why 
don’t you awaken me ? — why don’t you hold me, ^Er- 
nest?” 

These wild words sent a cold chill through Ernest. 
But springing up, he seized his father by both arms and 
laid him back upon the bed. The minister put forth all 
his strength to rise again, but he could not do it. He 
was no match for his muscular son. At last, giving up 
the struggle, he said, There, that will do, Ernest. I 
sha’nt try any more at present. You did well. You 
overcame that dreadful It that suggests these horrible 
things, and urges me on to do them. You must watch 
me, Ernest. You must restrain me, and if I grow worse, 
put me at once into an asylum. ” 

After remaining quiet for some time, the minister 
turned towards his son and asked, 

Have I ever harmed any one, Ernest?” 

No, never,” replied his son. 

I am very glad. Tell me that often; and make me 
understand that I must not/’ said his father. 

Ernest saw in this request a hint of what his father’s 
shattered mind needed, namely, the interposition of a 
stronger will to break the current of its own morbid and 
fatal tendencies, and to make it see and do right in spite 
of that awful It in whose clutch so many enfeebled 
minds are carried to a fearful doom. 

Ernest acted in accordance with this hint for many 
days, from time to time reminding his father, as he ha 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


173 


requested, that he had injured no one; and charging 
him solemnly to see to it that he raised not his hand 
against any person, lest otherwise he should really com- 
mit the unpardonable sin. 

Through the remainder of that night the minister got 
considerable rest. He would awake at intervals and 
manifest some uneasiness, but after watching his son for 
some time, become quieter, and then diop olf to sleep 
again. The presence of his son, after that one struggle, 
tended to subdue his nervousness. 

Ernest was very anxious to keep from the public a 
knowledge of the mental condition of his father ; and to 
that end he and his mother were the only persons beside 
the doctor who saw him. Ernest remained with him at 
night, and in the daytime -got what sleep he could, in an 
adjoining room, while his mother was at the sick bed. 

But one night, being much fatigued, Ernest fell asleep 
in his chair. He awoke, and witli horror saw his father 
standing by his dressing case in the act of taking a razor 
from the drawer. Ernest barely reached him in time to 
prevent his purpose. 

After that, Ernest did not dare leave his mother with 
him alone — not even in the daytime, but for several 
weeks attempted the exclusive care of his father. Every 
dangerous tool was taken out of the sick room, and at 
night the door was locked. Doctor Douglas would re- 
main several hours with the patient every day, during 
which time Ernest would drop upon the bed in the next 
room and get a little rest. 

This stf-.te of things could not last. The task which 


174 : 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


the minister’s son had set for himself was beyond human 
power to perform. 

Father Le Grand, who was in ’the habit of coming 
over every two or three days, when the doctor was there 
to learn of the minister’s condition, noticed Ernest's in- 
creasing pallor and weakness, and remonstrated with 
him for attempting to do so much. And when, after 
much urging, Ernest told him the truth about his fa- 
ther, the priest offered to share in the care of the sick 
man. 

At first, Ernest — considering the relations which had 
existed between his father and the priest — could not 
think favorably of the offer. But the exigency of the 
case, and the priest’s earnest desire to be of help to the 
family constrained him to consent to Father Le Grand’s 
proposition, provided his mother made no objections, 
and his father did not resent it. 

Mrs. Foster, who for some time previous to these days 
of trouble, had come to rely quite as much on the judg- 
ment of her son as of her husband on many matters, left 
the question for Ernest to decide. 

Whether at this time the interview with the priest in 
the grove, and all events and circumstances which led 
up to it, and that followed it, had passed from the mem- 
ory of the minister, it would be impossible to say. 

Neither was it possible to tell whether he knew 
Father Le Grand that evening when Ernest took him 
into the room, saying as he did so : 

Father, here is a friend who has consented to come 
in frequently and sit with you.” 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


176 


A friend?’^ responded the minister. I have many 
visitors, most of them enemies. A friend is surely 
welcome.’’ 

The priest urged the matter so hard that Ernest per- 
mitted him to watch several nights in succession, while 
he himself went to bed, and attended his father through 
the day. After Father Le Grand became satisfied that 
Ernest had made up for his loss of sleep, the two divided 
the night watching between them. 

One night when Father Le Grand was with the min- 
ister, the latter woke out of a long and sound sleep, and 
discovered the priest kneeling by the bed in prayer. 
The minister did not move lest he should interrupt him, 
but when the priest had resumed his seat said to him : 

Was it for me ?” 

^^Yes,” said Father Le Grand. 

^^How often have you done this?” asked the minister. 

Every night that I have been here,” was the reply, 
think your medicine agrees with me. Continue 
as you have been doing,” said the minister. 

Ernest had instructed Father Le Grand, and each 
made a practice of saying to the patient several times 
during the night, Yoiv have never harmed a human 
being and you must see that you do not. ” 

Within two weeks after Father Le Grand began to 
attend the minister, the latter surprised him by reply- 
ing to this cautionary declaration : 

‘^‘So Ernest told me last night.” And he surprised 
Ernest the next night by saying, So my friend charges 
me when he is here. You see my memory is improving.” 


176 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


The long rest of the minister was certainly telling in 
his favor. Besides the improvement in his memory, 
there were other hopeful signs which were a great com- 
fort to his wife and son. He slept longer at a time ; 
his nervousness decreased, and his gloomy spells grew 
less infrequent. He talked more. With his wife and 
Ernest he never discussed moral or religious questions. 
But with Father Le Grand he would sometimes venture 
to touch upon them. 

On one occasion when he was alone with the priest, 
he observed : 

^ God is a consuming fire,* — so we read.” 

‘ God is love,’ we also read,” replied the priest, 
repeated a once favorite text of mine. But both 
of these declarations are found in the Book ; and one 
I suppose is as sirong as the other.” 

I don’t agree,” said the priest.” 

Don’t you? Well, now, I hardly expected you 
would controvert that statement. Won't you give me 
your reasons for denying that these two declarations are 
of equal force?” 

Love is an attribute of God ; it is inherent in his 
nature. If he is also a consuming fire, he is so only as a 
means to an end,’’ answered Father Le Grand. 

^^Does your Bible teach that ?” asked the minister. 

Yours does, and that is more conclusive — to you,” 
said Father Le Grand. 

Why quote from a Book you do not believe ?” ques- 
tioned the other. 

Do you read my Bible ?” returned the priest. 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


177 


I presumed/’ remarked the priest. ^^Why, 
then/ should I take a text from a hook you will not 
read?” 

That is the priest speaking, between whom and the 
minister there is, I fear, ineradicable antagonism. But 
in the interest of peace and harmony, I will venture to 
say that I do not think Monsieur Le Grand (it was the 
first time he had spoken the name since he was sick) the 
ma?i is the worst person in the world.” 

^^It is no light compliment that places me above any 
one — when it comes from Monsieur Foster. I con- 
gratulate myself,” responded Father Le Grand, smiling 
and bowing. 

I am having an experience,” resumed the minister, 
“that is unlike anything I have ever had before. 
From great activity, I have been forced into idleness. 
The wind which bore my ship along, increased in 
velocity until it became a gale — a hurricane ; and ship- 
wreck threatened me. But the storm passed ; and in 
the lull that has succeeded it, I find myself anchored in 
quiet waters. And strange as it may seem, I at pres- 
ent find I have no desire to weigh anchor, hoist sail, 
and move out into the open sea of life where I have 
in the years gone by won — as I esteemed them — many 
victories, and suffered some defeats. No, I am in 
no hurry to go. I am content to remain in this 
peaceful , haven a little longer. For the first time in 
— 0, in many, many years — I have within this week, 
realized what a delightful sensation rest is to a weary man. 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


1Y8 


Just when I shall begin my work again I know not. 
Neither do I know just how I shall carry it on, but 
probably not quite in the old way, nor with the old 
spirit. The when and the how do not trouble me. 
In this sweet and restful moment, nothing troubles me, 
— not even the mistakes I have committed. For I 
know that God overlooks the misjudgments of a tired 
brain when the heart is honest ; and man should. 
Eest — rest — how delicious it is ! If there is not to be 
an enduring peace, there is at least a present truce. 
My brother, I make overtures of peace to — yes, even 
to the priest ; and I extend the hand of friendship to 
the man.” 

Father Le Grand seized the hand held out to him and 
with fervor replied : 

Amen ! my brother. It shall be peace and friend- 
ship ; and may God sanctify the compact to the good 
of men !” 

Within a week from this time, the minister, with the 
aid of his son was making little excursions two or 
three times every fair day, out among the shrubs and 
flowers in his yard, and around his garden. And a 
little later — one pleasant Summer afternoon — the peo-' 
pie of Mortonville were treated to another great sur- 
prise. 

It was this : The Kev. Charles Foster and Father 
Le Grand, leaving the former’s dwelling, and’ arm in 
arm walking slowly up the street and crossing the 
bridge — evidently bound for the house among the 
maples on the other side of the Shallow. As the little 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


1Y9 


world of Mortonville looked on and noticed the kindly, 
and even affectionate manner of these two men 
toward each other, it marveled — it marveled, but was 
not on the whole displeased. 

Jim Dobson, who was called to the window to view 
this extraordinary spectacle, probably gave utterance to 
the sentiment of the great majority of the people as he 
exclaimed : 

^‘1 declare ! Sho ! Well — well ! But why not? Hain^t 
they ministers of peace ? Boys, ’ taint allers practised, 
but the idee’s kerrect.” 


XIV. 

The Methodist church was “supplied” for nearly 
three months, and then the Rev. Charles Foster 
resumed the charge of it. He seemed almost like a 
stranger to the people ; and indeed he was a new 
man, for he never became his old self again. 
There were a few in the church who regretted the 
change, and sighed for former methods, and mourned 
for the loss of the Rev. Charles Foster as he was. But 
the great majority, as they came to know him better, 
gave to the new man a welcome which they had never 
given to the old. 

If Mr. Foster no longer started special revivals, 
it was because, as Jim Dobson said, “ Every buddy^s re- 
vived every time they go ter meetinh ” 

There is no reason to think that sin was less sinful 
to the mind of the minister at this time than in 
• days that were gone, but it is quite certain that 
man — the sinner — had become vastly dearer to him. 
After the experiences he had recently gone through 
which ended in a long, perfect, and saving rest, the 
world never again seemed to him so vile and hateful as 
it once did. He saw good in men that before escaped 
his notice. Even among people outside of the church 
he saw many acts of charity, love and fortitude that he 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


181 


owned were Christ-like ; and he was forced to admit that 
there were many Christians who were not church mem- 
bers. There was a time when such an admission would 
have been impossible for him. 

But now abideth faith, hope, love, these three ; and 
the greatest of these is Love.” 

Many a minister of the Gospel had taken these words 
of Paul the Apostle for a text to a sermon. But the 
Kev. Charles Foster never had. Heretofore in his 
search for a text, he had passed over these words often, 
but they had never arrested his attention. There was a 
very great and sweeping truth made known in them, but 
he had not comprehended it. 

But now that important declaration of Paul made a 
powerful impression on his mind, and he saw in it not 
simply a text for a sermon now and then, but a princi- 
ple which he resolved should henceforth control his 
whole life in his dealings with men. He had always 
hated sin, and during the time of the revival he Avas 
rapidly approaching a point where his aversion would 
take in the sinner with his misdeeds. He had mani- 
fested at that time a sort of fierceness in his onslaught 
upon sinners ; and in his outspoken condemnation o^ 
Avhat he deemed the crying misdemeanors of the com- 
munity — smoking and dancing — he showed a feeling 
akin to spite toward the guilty paldies. The result had 
been that those who had been frightened into joining 
the church were few in number, in comparison Avith 
those Avho were driven away. 


182 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


With Love comes hope, confidence, cheerfulness — 
‘^all things.” 

The world was scarcely any better now than then, 
but it seemed to be to the Rev. Charles Foster. The 
sunshine was not more plentiful nor beautiful now than 
formerly, but there were rays of light from beyond the 
sun, that streamed in upon the soul of the minister, and 
were reflected out upon all things around, and the pros- 
pect was certainly brighter to him. 

From this new standpoint he studied his son. He 
ceased to be censorious towards him, and very soon 
discovered in him a spirit so pure, unselfish and noble, 
that he opened wide the door of his heart and took him 
in unreservedly, and with him — Agnes. 

And more than that — much more — he let in the whole 
brotherhood of mankind. Something in his experience 
had changed the man marvelously. He seemed in- 
spired with a love for men. He preached as never 
before. His audiences were powerfully moved, and his 
name spread abroad. And his preaching and manner of 
approaching the people began to tell. 

If he held as tenaciously as ever to the doctrine of 
total depravity, he did not, as formerly, harden hearts 
by declaring that the greater part of those who heard 
him, and most of those in the community who did not, 
were altogether vile in the sight of God, that the mul- 
titude were given over to debasing habits and frivolous 
pleasures. But moved by the broader und more patient 
love for mankind which distinguished his later from his 
early ministry, he found no use for harsh epithets nor 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


183 


words of terror to convince men that they must look to 
the Grod of hope and love in order to make sure of that 
peace and joy which cannot be removed nor shaken. He 
never again referred specifically to any amusement in 
which some were wont to indulge, but drawn very near 
to the people by his love, through him the love of 
Christ touched their hearts and convinced them that the 
world with all its pleasures could not satisfy the deep 
longings of the soul. 

From the time he resumed his work until his pastor- 
ate in Morton ville ended, so great was the^ religious 
interest that it might with truth be characterized as a 
longhand uninterrupted revival,/’ and no communion 
passed without some additions to the church. 

So far from being envious of his brother in the minis- 
try, Father Le Grand expressed satisfaction at seeing a 
work prosper which must do good rather than harm. 
He commended the earnestness of the Protestants to his 
own people, and urged them to imitate it. Such was 
the catholicity and independency of the priest’s spirit 
that on one or two occasions he strolled into an evening 
meeting of Mr. Foster’s, taking a seat in the back part 
of the room. And although when the Methodist clergy- 
man invited him to take part, he shook his head and 
kept silent, at the close of the meeting he pressed Mr. 
Foster’s hand, and said fervently, “God bless you in 
your good work, my brother ! I rejoice in it, though for- 
bidden to work with ^mu, and in coming here have laid 
myself open to censure.” 

Mr, Morton spoke of the time as a period of 


184 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


religious feeling,” and for several reasons was pleased to 
see the friendly relations existing between minister and 
priest, and especially because at this time it favored a 
project which he had in view. 

He believed the time was fully ripe for him to make 
known what that plan was. And so he invited the two 
churchmen and Ernest to take tea at his house on a cer- 
tain evening that he might disclose it to them. The 
evening came ; the guests met the host ; and at length 
the tea was over. 

Now, gentlemen, ’ ’ began Mr. Morton, ‘ if you will give 
me your attention, you will learn why I have asked you 
to come together. In the early days of the village it 
was thought to be a wise and good thing to erect a 
church where the gospel could be preached by a follower 
of Wesley; and I joined in helping to build such a 
house. It was an excellent move. Later on, it seemed 
desirable that a large number of worthy foreigners who 
had come here to live, should be accommodated with a 
place where they could worship God in a manner after their 
own heart. I helped them to get it. Thus we have a 
wholly Protestant and a wholly Catholic church. Who 
ever dreamed that more than these would be required 
to meet the wants of this village ? And yet, gentlemen 
in the ministry, you ai-e likely to have a rival to your 
churches.^’ 

^Mndeed ! What now?” exclaimed the churchmen, 

‘^Yes,” continued the manufacturer, “it seems that 
there has lately arisen a demand for a house which is to 
be half Protestant and half Catholic. *The religion to 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


185 


which this new house is to be dedicated is a very old 
one. I think that neither of yours antedates it. It is 
called ‘The religion of love.’ I haven’t been asked to 
contribute to the erection of this temple, but knowing 
the parties who are to worship (one another) there, and 
being very friendly to them, and desiring to help every 
religious organization that is really needed in the com- 
munity, I have decided to build this edifice myself with- 
out calling on other parties for contributions. I pre- 
sume I shall need to call on my superintendent for his 
views as to the style and size of the structure, and also as to 
the date when it must be completed. As I am getting to 
he an old man, and life is uncertain, I hope the time is 
very near when it will be wanted. I desire to live to see 
it occupied. Gentlemen of the ministry, you will per- 
haps think that I — being a heathen — am interesting 
myself a great deal in church matters, but you must 
bear with me, remembering that it is a weakness of mine 
to intermeddle with every enterprise that concerns the vil- 
lage. Come, show your hand, gentlemen. What stand are 
the first and the second church going to take in reference 
to the third ? Are they going to welcome it, extend the 
hand of Christian fellowship to it, and bless it ? — or are 
they to envy it, treat it coldly, and distrust it? Speak 
out and let us know.” 

For a moment after the manufacturer closed, there 
was silence. Then Mr. Foster rose, and in a broken 
voice said : 

“ May God bless you for what you have^done and pro- 
pose to do for my son ! And may He grant that you 


186 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


shall never feel that your confidence and regard have 
been misplaced.” 

Turning then and going to Ernest’s side, he stooped 
and kissed him affectionately upon the forehead, and in 
doing so, dropped a tear there. This is my answer to 
your question, Mr. Morton. This shall be my welcome 
to him and his,” he said. 

And this is mine,” added Father Le Grand, giving 
his hand to Ernest. 

I suppose your churches will approve this agreement, 
gentlemen,” remarked the manufacturer. 

He was assured that there was no doubt about it. 

Ho one was more surprised than Ernest as Mr. Mor- 
ton made known his very generous purpose. Taking 
advantage of the first opportunity that offered, he at- 
tempted to express in words his gratitude to his kind 
patron, but he broke down and was compelled to let his 
suffused eyes and trembling lips speak his thanks, which 
they did more eloquently and effectually than words 
could have done it. 

Ernest and Agnes were married the next May — a few 
days only more than a year from their informal and ro- 
mantic introduction to each other. 

Mr. Morton Avas better than his word. For not only 
did he build and have ready a very pretty house for the 
young couple, but he gave Ernest, as an additional wed- 
ding present, an interest in the business of Humphrey, 
Morton &.Son. 

The wedding was a very notable affair for Mortonville. 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


187 


There was a double ceremony. First, at the Catholic 
chapel Ernest and Agnes were made one by Father Le 
Grand, in the presence of a full house ; then at the 
Methodist church, which was also filled to its utmost 
capacity, — the Eev. Charles Foster officiating, they sol- 
emnly promised to he loving and true until death did 
them part. 

And how prospered this house which was half Protes- 
tant and half Catholic? Was it a house divided against 
itself ? E’ever for a moment. God blessed it, and smiled 
upon it. The time which Ernest had expressed a hope 
would one day come, when he and Agnes could talk 
freely together upon the great theme of life,’^ telling to 
each other frankly their true thoughts — their deepest 
and most solemn thoughts regarding it — had now come. 

What was the result? Which of the two was changed 
over ? Did Saint Agnes meet the gloomy expecta- 
tions of a certain few of the most strict Methodist broth- 
ers and sisters, and make a Catholic of Ernest ? These 
questions are soon answered. 

FTot long before the Rev. Charles Foster left Morton- 
ville for another field, Agnes and Ernest were talking 
about his going. 

What do you say to joining your father’s church be- 
fore he leaves ?” asked Agnes. 

“You and I?” said Ernest. 

“0, no, dear — but you. You know how happy it 
would make your father and mother, and — don’t you 
think you would feel better too?” 


188 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


Singular, Agnes, but do you know that your thoughts 
are my thoughts on this matter ? Ever since you told 
me the other day that when you came to know my father 
and mother well, you reached the conclusion that no one 
could go far astray in following such intelligent and good 
people, but that you knew your uncle was also both wise 
and good, and that you should never confide in any other 
spiritual adviser as long as he remained in Mortonville, 
I have felt that we could worship God .devoutly and 
truly together even though one administer the sacrament 
to you and another to me. But if they attempt by rea- 
son of their faith to divide — ” 

Agnes fiew to her husband and throwing her arms 
about his neck, exclaimed : 

Divide us ! They shall never do it. They never can! 
We belong to each other, and to' God, whom we can 
serve without their aid when their advice tends to sepa- 
rate us.^’ 

Agnes, you are an angel — but I think I have said 
that before. The fact is, you make me repeat myself 
quite often,’^ said Ernest, kissing his wife. 

And so it came about at last that Ernest was taken 
into the Methodist church while his father was in 
Mortonville. It is safe to say that never in his life had 
the Eev. Charles Foster performed any service that af- 
forded him so much joy as on that occasion. 

Many years liave passed since the scenes recorded in 
these pages took place. Mortonville is still prosperous, 
and is growing, its mills still busy, but the founder of 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


189 


the village and the builder of the mills went long ago to 
his final resting-place. 

By his side sleeps his wife. A noble and beautiful 
woman she had indeed been, and a sharer with him for 
more than fifty years in whatever life brought, of joy or 
sorrow. 

Though a granite shaft hears his name, and shows 
the world where Humphrey Morton sleeps, and will 
while it stands keep his name where the passer-by can 
read it, the monument which best and most surely per- 
petuates his name and character is Mortonville itself ; 
which he caused to spring up from a veritable wilder- 
ness. And not only the many and substantial structures 
he erected and the thriving business which he created 
will continue to remind the world of him, but the lessons 
in integrity, honesty, thrift, and persistency in every 
good undertaking, which he taught to all who ever 
worked for him, as well as the example of these virtues 
which he set, will go on bearing fruit for good as long as 
the world stands. 

Uncle Bina and Sister Wolcott have joined the in- 
numerable company of saints on the other side. Gone, 
too, are Old Wrinkles and that other nameless per- 
son who was not an admirer of his, to a land — let us 
hope — where animosities do not shape men^s actions. 

Nathan Styles still tarries, an old man ; and since he 
learned that people refused to take him seriously, or to 
look upon him as a great man, he has grown cynical and 
rarely goes to church. Lem Baker says, ^^You can 


190 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


now say of Styles what you couldn’t truly say afore, 
n’ that is, he hain’t no hypocrite — he’s jest what he seems 
ter be.” 

Jim Dobson is still a pillar in the church, a consistent 
Christian, a good workman, and retains his position in 
the mill, and although a good distance beyond sixty, he is 
quite active, and hardly seems old. His son Jimmy ” 
is a great comfort to him. He is very proud of him and 
boasts of the boy’s talents, and says he is destined to 
beat his father ‘^^all holler.” 

Holfman lived to be very old, and became very deaf. 
His love of argument left him as old age came upon him, 
and although a great many were not willing to take his 
interpretations of the Bible, his firm belief in that su- 
preme book was never doubted, and his upright life and 
gentleness at last won him the regard and respect of all. 
He always expected to see the second coming of Christ. 
He believed that the Saviour would be seen by all men 
when he came. The old man had the time fixed when 
Christ was to come. He had figured it all out, and had 
no question about the month and the day, although he 
admitted that he had been mistaken two or three times 
before. Though men smiled at this strange notion of 
the old Millerite, they felt a tender respect for him. 
Christ came indeed for the devout old man, but not in 
the eyes of the whole world, nor when this peculiar but 
faithful believer of his predicted. He came one night 
months before the time set by the Adventist, and called 
him while he was in bed asleep. 


PRI^iST AND PURITAN 


191 


Lem Baker never traveled on the cars again after re- 
turning from St. Albans. On the way hack the train 
met with an accident and was brought to such a sudden 
stop that Lem — as he expressed it — was thro wed half 
way to Mortonville afore he lighted.” He was so terri- 
fied that he walked the remainder of the distance — a 
hundred miles or more. He continues to exercise his 
talent for inventing, and one of his inventions is serving 
a good purpose in the mill and pays him a small royalty. 
Lem’s reputation as lemonade-mixer was seriously dam- 
aged a few years ago by the act of some roguish young 
fellows who, on the sly, deposited a peck of fine salt in a 
barrel of the liquid after he had got it all ready for use. 
It was several years before the trick was found out, and 
in the mean time Lem concluded to let some one else 
serve the public in ^^gittin’ up the mixter.” 

Ernest’s father, now much too old to preach, and his 
mother, are spending their last days with him. Father 
Le Grand died some ten years ago. The friendship 
which sprang up between the minister and priest at the 
time the former was recovering from his illness, never 
lessened, but rather increased and grev: more and more 
into real affection. In their old age, and after Mr. Fos- 
ter came to live with Ernest, they saw much of each 
other, and often had long and frank talks together on 
matters of religion. And in their apprehension of the love 
of God and His plan for the salvation of men, they often 
forgot the vast difference that existed, in the opinion of 
the world, between the churches which they represented, 


192 


PRIEST AND PURITAN 


and breathed together a prayer that the church uni- 
versal might prosper, and that all men might be brought 
into it. And when they parted for the last time on 
earth, it was with a cheerful hope and firm conviction in 
the minds of both that they should meet again, on the 
other side of the dark valley, never to be separated. 


THE END. 









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